Every muscle in Analise’s body went rigid. “He doesn’t have to—” She caught herself before the rest spilled out.
Luke encroached on her space a little farther, leaning over her. “Doesn’t have to what, Ana? Go ahead and finish it—he doesn’t have to leave?”
She wanted to hit him. The urge was so strong that she had to ball her hands in the fabric of her jeans to keep from it. Through gritted teeth she said, “You’ve got your own family. What are you doing down here messing with mine?” She flung an arm to the north. “Why don’t you go meddle in their lives and leave my family alone!”
He was breathing as hard as she was. Anger sparked in his eyes and a vein throbbed in his neck, the pink scar there turning red. He said, in a very low voice that told her he was working as hard to hold his temper as she, “Your family is falling apart.”
“It’s my family to fix—not yours.”
He stood there, staring at her with so much anger and frustration radiating from head to toe that Analise could almost see the violence she knew he had to be capable of. Then he stalked past her and went out the back door.
Analise took two deep breaths to keep from passing out, then went upstairs to stop this idea of Cole’s before it got so far gone that there was no pulling him back. The army. Jesus. Hadn’t she and Olivia given enough?
Chapter 19
Luke got in the Taurus and started it. He sat there for a minute with his hands resting on the steering wheel and the engine idling. Then he shut the car off again. Leaning his head back against the seat, he closed his eyes and blew out a long breath.
Analise was right. This wasn’t his family, or his problem to solve. He knew it, but his heart would not let these people go. He also didn’t know what he could do to make things right.
He had to ask himself, was his reluctance to leave totally self-serving? Was he avoiding making decisions in his own life by deferring his energies to someone else’s problems? Analise had said he had his own family—and yet he still felt more compelled to stay here than to go home.
As he sat in his car, watching the light of day begin to fade, he realized for the first time, he was afraid to go home—actually afraid. His life in the army was essentially over. He’d left Glens Crossing so long ago, how could there be a place for him there? If there was, did he want to fill it?
He ran a hand through his hair. He could not build his life around Calvin’s family, he knew that. And yet, the very thought of leaving made his chest feel tight.
A pecking on the window made him jump. He looked up and Olivia was peering at him with a curious look on her face. He nodded toward the passenger seat and she walked around the car and got in.
“Going someplace?” she asked in her spritely way.
“Yes. But not now. Soon.”
“You and Ana had words.” She said it as a statement, not a question.
He shook his head slightly. “It doesn’t matter.”
Olivia gave a knowing nod. “Rufus is coming home tomorrow.”
Luke looked at her. “That’s good news.”
“Well, it’s about all the good news that’s coming our way right now.”
Sitting up straighter, he asked, “Something happened?”
“Travis’s parents are pushing Smug to find Cole at fault in the accident.”
“And the evidence says?”
She lifted her small hand in the air. “Smug insists the worst we’ll see is a no-fault. The witness confirms Cole’s account. Travis still doesn’t remember anything.”
“So you think they’ll file a civil suit?”
“Smug said they can, but he doesn’t see how they’ll win. Dave doesn’t seem so sure—you never know with juries.”
“What does your insurance company say?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Wait and see. We’re not to worry.”
“Sounds like good advice to me. If the sheriff is looking at no-fault, and with the witness that said Travis’s car was in the wrong lane, I doubt you have anything to worry about.”
She nodded. “So you’ve decided you’re going to leave us soon.”
“Yes. When the park job is done.”
“That gives me about ten days.”
Luke gave her a scrutinizing stare. “You’re committed, then?”
“Oh, yes. There was never any doubt in my mind about that. I just have to get the timing right. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I do want you to be here when it happens.”
“I can’t see how I can help.”
She reached across and patted his hand. “This family is going to need someone to hold the rudder for a bit once it’s done. Believe me, it’ll help me more than you’ll ever know.”
He squeezed her hand. “Then I’ll be here.”
Cole lay on his bed, looking at the pamphlets sent by the army. He now had mixed emotions about the prospect of joining. It had seemed the perfect answer just days ago. But he didn’t want Luke to get the idea that he was in any way trying to be like him.
Overall, he still was inclined to pursue it. He’d talked to his counselor at school and found that he’d have enough credits to graduate early. He’d be eighteen early in his senior year, so that wouldn’t complicate anything.
“Cole?” Ana called through his closed door.
“Yeah. Come on in.” He stuffed the papers under his pillow, then flipped over on his back and stuck his hands behind his head.
Analise slowly opened the door, as if she were afraid that he was going to throw something at her. Not that he didn’t feel like it.
She said, “Feeling better today?”
“You know I wasn’t sick.”
She looked uncomfortable as she came in and closed the door behind her. “I really think we should talk.”
He turned on his side, facing away from her. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell Mom.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I came up here to discuss. But since you brought it up . . . Luke and I . . . actually, there is no ‘Luke and I,’ I guess that’s what I’m meaning to say. I needed a friend—someone outside the family—and Luke . . . Well, we’re not—”
“Just stop it, Ana. I don’t want to talk about Luke.” And he didn’t, mostly because he’d probably say something that would hurt her more—that Luke only wanted her for someone to sleep with while he was here; that she had almost thrown her family away for the wrong man.
Becca’s words echoed in his head. What she said made his stomach curl in dread. Analise was young—well, young for a widow. She probably would find someone else and leave Magnolia Mile. The worry that he’d had the first days after they’d learned of Calvin’s death—that she might move away—was back.
He heard her step closer. “I saw the envelope downstairs—from the army.”
Shit. He’d forgotten about the envelope.
She went on, “Are you seriously considering joining?” There was just enough disdain in her voice to piss him off.
“What does it matter to you if I am or not?”
“Everything about you matters to me.”
Right. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Cole.” He felt her sit down on the bed behind him. “I know you miss Calvin; you want to join the army to feel closer to him again. But you need to choose for you, not to follow in Calvin’s footsteps.”
He sat upright and turned to face her in one quick, abrupt motion. “Calvin has nothing to do with this!” His defense was vehement, and yet Cole suddenly realized that the entire time he’d been looking at the pamphlets, he’d been imagining how Calvin had done in basic training, wondering if he would be as good a soldier as Calvin. But he’d never admit it to Ana; she’d shown that she didn’t care about Calvin any longer.
“Oh, baby.” She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, but he jerked away.
“I’m not a baby. Stop talking to me like I am.”
After a second, during which she looked like she was either going to cry or slap him again, she said, “So
rry. I just want you to think carefully. You have lots of time to decide.”
“If I commit now, I can choose what I want to do.”
She stood up and looked down at him. “Don’t do this to spite me.”
“Why does everything have to be about you? This is my decision, my life. And if anybody has a say, it’s Mom— not you.”
He wanted to bury his face in his pillow so he didn’t have to look at her anymore. But he stayed put, giving the coldest glare he could muster. It was hard because she looked so hurt. He reminded himself that’s what girls did when they wanted you to do things their way.
Finally, she left the room without saying anything else.
Cole curled up on his side, wishing with all of his heart that Calvin was still alive, that there wasn’t a danger that Ana would fall in love with someone else and move away, that people he loved would stop leaving him.
They sat at the dinner table without Cole, once again. He’d told his mother that he’d gotten hungry early—since he’d been sick yesterday and not eaten—so he’d made himself a sandwich. Now he needed to catch up on his homework. In a completely uncharacteristic move, Olivia had agreed to his absence. One of Liv’s steadfast rules had always been that everyone sat together at the dinner table every night—hungry or not.
And she seemed preoccupied, Analise thought. Every evening since Luke’s arrival, Olivia never failed to make some flattering comment about Ana’s cooking, but tonight nary a word.
At least Analise knew Liv’s silence had nothing to do with Cole having blown the whistle on her and Luke. She ate in thankful silence.
She never thought she’d admit this, but the lack of conversation was starting to get on her nerves. It was one of those things that she assumed would never bother her. In fact, she’d occasionally longed for a quiet meal—particularly since Luke had joined their table. Now she realized it was only because Olivia always kept some form of conversation going and she’d never really had to face dinner silence—which was much more nerve-wracking than ordinary silence. Each fork scrape, glass clink and knife tap echoed like a gunshot in her ears.
Finally, Olivia said, “Oh, Ana, before I forget, I’ve invited Reverend Hammond for coffee and dessert tomorrow evening.”
Analise looked at her mother-in-law with surprise. “Just dessert?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about making anything. I’m going to pick something up from the bakery—maybe one of Mimi’s Black Forest cakes. That always finishes a meal nicely.”
“All right. Any special occasion for this . . . dessert?”
“Richard’s been such a help lately, I want to thank him.”
The words were simple, but the look in Olivia’s eye said there was more to it than that. When Analise glanced back at Luke, he was staring at Olivia with an odd look on his face.
Analise said, “You’re sure you don’t want to invite him for dinner? I don’t mind.” Not that she particularly wanted the man here for dinner—or dessert—but this was Olivia’s house.
“No. Just dessert. I believe he has another commitment earlier in the evening.”
One thing about detesting lying as much as Olivia did, it made one a terrible liar. There was definitely something else afoot.
Oh, my gosh! He’s asked her to marry him.
Analise’s appetite dried up. It hadn’t been too keen anyway, with Cole being so upset with her and the park job still behind schedule. To distract her from her meal even further, Luke was sitting right across from her with new color in his cheeks from outdoor work, looking more handsome than ever. She picked at her food, trying not to look at him.
But there he sat, making her love him and hate herself at the same time. Her body temperature rose as she remembered the intimate dance in the studio. She felt like she had a fever—hot and cold fighting for supremacy, just on the verge of breaking out in perspiration.
She glanced at Luke. Big mistake. There was something in his blue eyes that said he noticed the change in her and understood its cause.
Finally, the meal ended. Analise insisted on cleaning the kitchen by herself. The truth of it was, Olivia looked too tired to lift a dishrag and Analise didn’t trust herself alone with Luke. She was still angry with him for his interference. Yet there were feelings underneath that anger that were far from antagonistic. Love and hate, two sides of the same sword, mirror images that cannot be separated.
Alone in her kitchen, she tried to find solace in the rhythm of familiar tasks. She tried not to think of Olivia and Richard’s big announcement—and what it might mean to her life in this house. She buried her thoughts in what should be thrown out of the refrigerator and making note of what needed to be purchased during her next trip to the Piggly Wiggly. However, as habit made her reach for Rufus’s bowl, that meager comfort vanished.
She sat down hard on a kitchen chair, buried her face in the dish towel she held and cried. She didn’t want to. She’d managed to stay dry-eyed for months. But since that night when Luke coaxed the dammed-up tears from her, they’d been ready to fall at the slightest provocation.
After a few seconds of indulgence, she swallowed her tears, sniffled loudly and got back to work.
She hated self-pity as much as Olivia hated lies.
When Analise went upstairs at ten o’clock, there was a light shining from Olivia’s bedroom door, which stood ajar. Analise called softly, pushing the door open. Olivia was already in her nightshirt, tucked in bed. The light was burning, but the book Olivia was reading had fallen on her chest, her eyeglasses shielding closed eyes.
Analise walked quietly over to the bed and removed the book from Olivia’s chest. As she lifted Olivia’s hand, she saw how thin her skin seemed—the skin of a much older woman. After setting the book on the nightstand, she studied her mother-in-law’s face carefully. Olivia was such a vibrant woman, always moving, it was rare to get a glimpse of her this still. Her face seemed fuller in the cheeks. Her color appeared slightly ashen. Was it just the light? Analise noticed tissues in the bedside waste can that had been used to remove foundation. Liv never wore makeup.
Gently, Analise removed Olivia’s glasses and put them on the night table on top of the closed book. Olivia showed no sign of waking. Analise tucked the covers carefully around her and turned out the light.
As she closed the door behind her, she heard Olivia sigh quietly in her sleep. That tiny sound fell on Analise’s ears and wound its way directly to her heart. She loved Olivia, as much as she imagined she would have loved her own mother, had she lived. She shuddered to think of the woman she would have become without Olivia’s spirited love. For some reason, the thought brought a heavy sadness with it—as if something were threatening her peace here.
The only things that threatened Analise’s peace, she thought, were her own choices. She knew she’d made the right one; she could never leave this family. Still, a little part of her longed for the passion she shared with Luke. But, she reminded herself, passion burned brightly and fast, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Better to be content with the steady love of family.
She heard the shower running and saw Luke’s bedroom door was open. She glanced toward Cole’s door and saw there was no light shining beneath. Olivia was so soundly asleep she hadn’t known that Ana was in the room with her.
That itch that Luke had set off demanded to once again be scratched. She bit her lip and looked toward the closed bathroom door.
Who would know if she slipped quietly into the shower with him? One more shot at that passion before opportunity faded.
She shouldn’t. It would just make things more difficult.
She couldn’t make her feet move toward her own room. The mere thought of his rugged body, slick with soap under her hands, nearly made her gasp with yearning. Oh, to have needles of hot water beat down on her skin, while Luke’s hands, his lips, attended every inch of her. He’d given her a taste of heaven; who could blame her for wanting just one more nibble before he left?
God in
heaven. She turning quickly and went to her own room, closing the door firmly behind her. She had been better off when she didn’t know what was within her grasp.
After she heard the bathroom door open and Luke’s bedroom door close, Analise slipped quietly to the bathroom herself. The steamy air still smelled of him. She ran her hand over the wet towel he’d used. It was still warm.
Stop it! Stop torturing yourself.
She wiped the steam from the mirror and closed the door on her indecent thoughts. After going through her bedtime routine, she went back to her own room. As she looked at the bed, it seemed much larger than before, a great expanse of cold sheets and empty dreams.
With a sigh, she slid between those unwelcoming sheets. The image that haunted her made her toss and turn, for each time she closed her eyes, she saw Luke’s eyes blazing with passion that one blissful morning.
Flopping on her side, she wrapped her pillow around her head, burying her scream of frustration.
Why did she torment herself like this? She needed to grab hold of that flash of anger she’d felt earlier today when they’d fought over Cole. She needed to clutch it tight and somehow make it outweigh everything else.
At some point she must have fallen asleep, because when she heard Luke yell, she bolted upright in bed and looked at the clock. It was three o’clock in the morning.
He yelled again, a strangled sound of suffering.
Analise jumped up and ran to his room, opening the door without hesitation. As her eyes were well adjusted to the dark, she could see him clearly, thrashing, the sheet down to his waist and twisted around his legs.
“Luke!” she whispered loudly.
His head turning from side to side, he continued to mutter words that made no sense. She closed the door behind her, to prevent awakening Olivia and Cole. Then she hurried to his bedside. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she found him bathed in perspiration. She shook him gently.
“Luke, wake up.” When he didn’t, she tried again. “Lu—” Her words were cut off when he sat straight up and his hand shot around her throat. It happened faster than a snake strike. His grasp was strong, squeezing her airway closed.
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