Her fingers dug into his wrist, trying in vain to pull his hand away.
His eyes finally seemed to focus and come out of his dream. “Oh, Jesus.” He jerked his hand away from her and looked at it with revulsion. “Oh, God.” He reached out and tentatively put both hands on her face. “Did I hurt you?”
She worked to swallow, surprised the muscles in her throat still functioned. “No.” Her voice was hoarse. “But you sure scared the crap out of me.”
The rigidity of his body left on his exhaled breath. He pulled her to sit next to him on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”
Analise could feel how frantic his heart was beating. “It’s all right. You were dreaming.”
He buried his face in the crook of her neck. The warmth of his breath teased her skin.
She stroked his hair with one hand and his bare back with the other. “It’s all right,” she murmured again.
After a few moments, his breathing slowed to normal and he loosened his grip on her. He didn’t let her go, but stopped clinging as if he were about to slip into some vast chasm.
She leaned back, and his hands lingered on her sides. Pushing the hair away from his damp brow, she said, “Better?”
He held her gaze for a moment. “I haven’t had a nightmare like that since I started sleeping here. Which doesn’t make any sense. . . .”
Smiling at him, she said, “Of course it makes sense. You’ve been in hospitals and hotels. Here you’re home.”
He put a hand on the one she held to his cheek and closed his eyes. “No. You don’t understand. You couldn’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me. Maybe it’ll help.”
He lay back on the bed, pulling her with him. She didn’t resist. She rested her cheek on his chest and felt the warmth of his arms around her.
“If I talk about it,” he said, “you’ll start having nightmares.” There was something uncharacteristically bleak in his tone. It sent a little shiver down her spine.
She whispered, “I’d take them, if it meant you didn’t have to have them anymore.”
He took a deep breath that lifted her head. “Oh, Ana . . . you don’t know what you’re saying.” After a pause, he said, “I’ve earned these nightmares.”
She put her hand on his chest and rested her chin on it. “I know I can’t imagine the things you’ve seen, the things you’ve done in service of your country. You’re a good man. I see it in you every day, the way you care for Olivia and Cole—people you barely know. You didn’t have to come here—and you certainly didn’t have to stay.”
“You’re right.” He touched her cheek. “You can’t imagine the things I’ve done.”
She started to say more, but he put a finger on her lips and said, “Shhh. It’s late.”
Unable to resist, she nipped his finger with her teeth, then shifted and kissed his palm.
His gaze held hers while she teased the flesh of his hand. Then he pulled her up and kissed her mouth in a way that had her body clamoring for more.
At the end of the kiss, he whispered against her lips, “Go back to your room, Ana.”
She nibbled on his lower lip and rubbed his chest. “I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want me. If you knew . . . you’d never want to be near me. I’m not what you think I am.”
“Will you shut up? I’m not asking you to marry me, just make love to me.” She moved her hand lower on his body.
He moaned, then grabbed her wrist.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because . . . because you’re making it harder for me to leave.”
She nearly said, Then don’t, but caught herself, the implications of such a thing crashing over her like a cold wave.
He must have sensed her reaction. “I am leaving. Doing this doesn’t seem right; it won’t change anything.”
“Exactly.” She moved and dipped her tongue in the hollow of his throat. “So why not do it while we can?”
Groaning, he moved so quickly, she was on her back before she even realized he was caving in.
Sometime deep in the night, Analise had the wild notion that if Olivia was going to marry Richard Hammond and bring him into their house, maybe that would pave the way for Luke being added to their family. Perhaps her and Luke’s relationship could extend beyond the self-imposed expiration date.
In the cold light of morning, as with so many nocturnal epiphanies, she realized just how foolish that was. Olivia had been a widow for over eight years, not a matter of months. And she wasn’t bringing a new husband into Granny Lejeune’s house. It was clear that life with Luke would mean life away from Magnolia Mile. And, as she had a hundred times before, she recognized the fact that she could not leave this family—even if Richard Hammond were added to the mix.
Or could she? As the first streams of sunlight came through her bedroom window, she began to look at things differently. If Olivia married Richard, she would have a full-time companion and someone to help her run the nursery. And, as Luke had so bluntly pointed out to her, the day would soon come for Cole to make his way into the world. Perhaps in a few months her leaving Magnolia Mile might seem the right thing to do.
She rolled onto her side and hugged her pillow to her chest. She was too tired to think straight, and her reason was too fogged by the hours in Luke’s bed. Closing her eyes, she tried to fall asleep for at least an hour before her alarm went off and she had to drag herself back to the job site. Normally, she couldn’t wait to get to a project. But her emotional energy had been split, as light through a prism, unable to concentrate the fullness of its intensity to any single facet of her life.
As she fell into a light sleep, she worried that might just make it so she didn’t do anything right.
Today they were loading up the sections of the fountain and taking them to the park. The pieces were large enough that each one had to be taken in a separate trip. It was nearly noon by the time they’d shuttled all of them to the children’s garden. As Analise and Luke had grown adept at working together, it didn’t require a great deal of talk. They moved in content silence. The only other subject that was pressing forth in Luke’s mind was forbidden in the daylight hours.
As they stood there, looking at the sections set in their approximate permanent positions, Luke said, “You have to be proud. You’ve made something that will last, something people will enjoy.”
She shot him a quick grin. “I haven’t made it yet. And if the electrician doesn’t show up this afternoon to wire the controls, I’m in deep do-do.”
Luke grinned back. “If he doesn’t, I’ll go find him and drag his sorry ass here.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Hey, when guys have as few marketable skills as I do, we do what we can.”
She looked seriously at him. “What are you going to do? I mean, when this job’s finished, of course.”
Rolling in his lips, he shrugged. “Not sure.”
“Army?”
With a look of sadness, he shook his head. “Nothing there for me now. I can’t do the job I was trained to do.”
She gestured one hand to the air. “Now’s the time to go for something you want—not just a job, but something that feeds more than your stomach and wallet. With no family to support, you can do as you please.”
Her comment struck him as sharply as a stinging whip. The only thing he “pleased,” he could not have. It struck him then, he would be happy spending his days working outdoors with this landscaping business, helping Analise with her creations. Money didn’t motivate him, never had. Feeling useful, completing a job, being productive, that’s what powered him. For a long time, he’d thought it was those moments of adrenaline-pumping excitement, the moments when life hung in the balance. But he now saw it wasn’t the adrenaline buzz, exactly, it was the rush afterward when he knew he’d done something that made a difference.
He had a taste of that rush now, looking at this fountain
.
“Luke?” Analise prompted.
Shaking his head, he said, “I’m one lost son-of-a-bitch.”
The wounded look in her eye made him regret the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He added, “I’ll figure it out—eventually.”
He thought she’d set the topic aside, but she didn’t. “What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
He chuckled. “An astronaut. A pilot. A fireman. A race car driver. A stuntman. A football coach. Not necessarily in that order.”
“A very focused child.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“All pretty edgy professions.” She gave him a sideways glance. “You need the thrill.”
“Maybe at one time. But not anymore. I’ve thrilled myself enough to last a lifetime.” Now I want to be a landscaper.
“You say that now. But in a few more months, when you’re back up to full speed . . . things will look different to you then.”
He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, look in her eye and tell her just how that thrill-seeking personality had screwed his judgment. He thought he could do it all and nothing, but nothing, would go wrong. But something went terribly wrong, and there was no undoing it. He did manage to look her in the eye. “No. I’m done.”
A flash of comprehension shone in her eyes, which she quickly masked. He could tell she was trying to lighten the mood when she said, “Okay, forget the dreams of youth. What’s deep inside you now? What is your secret desire that’s just waiting to be explored?”
He gave her a crafty glance, wanting to divert this conversation away from his future—the only subject that made him as uncomfortable as his recent past. “Well, I thought my desires were pretty clear last night.”
She shoved him playfully. “All right. If you’re going to start acting like that, it’s back to work.”
Luke spent the rest of the day surreptitiously watching Analise work, having trouble focusing on his own. She was beautiful in her concentration as she began to assemble the fountain. His heart ached—for himself, for her, for Olivia and Cole, for the future that was about to be rewritten.
Chapter 20
Dinner was every bit as uncomfortable as Analise had feared. Cole made his first appearance at the table since he’d walked in on her and Luke in the studio—and his cool demeanor could not be misinterpreted by a blind man. Analise and Olivia both chattered about banal topics, fueled by nerves and the need to ignore the impending bomb to be dropped. At one point, Analise almost said she’d figured out the news, so there was no need for all of this jumpy secrecy as they awaited Reverend Hammond’s arrival. But she couldn’t quite muster up the courage to draw the subject out in the open.
The only bright spot was that Rufus was back home, lounging by the stove waiting for his dinner. As Dr. Flynn had assured them, the dog showed no lingering ill effects whatsoever. Analise had firmly decided it had been Roy, after all. Dave’s suggestion that it was Luke was ludicrous. And the possibility that Dave was behind it was equally ridiculous; Dave had been a family friend since before she came to Grover. The argument that Roy wouldn’t have used prime meat could be easily dismissed—the three hundred dollars Luke had given him was probably more than the man had seen in one lump sum for a very long time. He probably felt flush with cash. Besides, she didn’t think Roy was long on decision making—logic might not apply.
As she loaded the dishwasher and threw out the mostly uneaten dinner, Olivia brought out a pink bakery box tied with string. She pulled out her good china cups and dessert plates, then arranged the cake on a crystal pedestal plate. As she did it, she was humming. Very uncharacteristic of Olivia—if she made a musical sound, it was always singing, never this nerve-wracking humming.
After Cole took out the trash, he said, “I’m going up to study.”
Olivia’s hands stilled in her preparations. “I asked you to stay down here. Reverend Hammond will be here in a minute.”
Cole shifted, his feet obviously itching to get away from Analise. “Just call me when he does and I’ll come down.”
Turning to her son, Olivia’s voice was unusually stern when she answered, “You can stay down here. It’ll only be a minute. Take this cake into the dining room.”
With a sigh of frustration, Cole did as she asked.
Analise’s mind was whirling with what was about to happen. She needed to prepare herself so she gave the proper outward reaction to the news. And just what was the proper reaction? Obviously, she wasn’t going to gush, overflowing with enthusiasm. That would just be too false. But she had to be supportive, especially in front of Cole. This was going to be a bigger adjustment for him than for her. He had to know they were still going to be a family, even though things were changing.
Through the window over the sink, she saw headlights shining on the carriage house. Reverend Hammond—Richard, she had to get used to calling him that—was pulling into the drive. Her mouth went dry and she closed her eyes, steeling herself. She would not ruin this moment for Olivia. She would offer her congratulations and welcome Richard to the family.
The doorbell rang, making Analise jump, even though she knew it was coming. She was going to have to do a better job of controlling herself than that, she thought.
Olivia went to the door. Analise heard her and Rev—Richard’s hushed voices in the front hall. She drew a deep breath, picked up the coffeepot and took it into the dining room. Cole was sitting at the table, looking at a comic book. He didn’t acknowledge her presence.
Luke was standing in the hall, just outside the wide dining room doorway. His gaze was fixed on the front door and the two people standing in front of it.
Analise watched him from the far corner of the dining room, near the door to the kitchen, her heart beating a little faster at the masculine sight of him. She saw him smile slightly as he greeted the reverend. Then she realized she was staring and Cole was right there, so she turned around and returned to the kitchen.
She came back a few seconds later with her emotions under better control and the cream pitcher in her hand. Luke was engaged in quiet conversation with the reverend in the doorway.
Olivia said, “Well, let’s have some dessert.”
They all moved to take seats at the table—all except Luke. He took a step backward, toward the hall. “I’ll say good night now.”
Olivia stood back up. “You’ll do no such thing. Get yourself in here and sit down.”
For a moment he looked like he might bolt and run. Then he slowly came in and sat in the chair next to Cole—which put him directly across from Analise.
Olivia started to cut the cake. The ticking of the hall clock sounded loud enough to shatter glass. Analise shifted in her chair.
Once the cake and coffee were served, Olivia picked up her fork. “Mimi really outdid herself. Just look at this cake.”
“Delicious,” Richard said as he took a bite.
“Humm,” Analise managed. She wanted to stand up and shout for them to get this over with. But she took a small bite of cake that seemed to swell in her mouth.
What followed made Analise want to scream—discussion of the weather, who was in the hospital, what had happened at the last town meeting.
Finally, Olivia cleared her throat and said, “I suppose y’all have figured out I have a special reason for gathering us all together.”
Analise put her hands in her lap and dug her nails into her palms. She glanced at Cole, who looked a little shaken. Had he already guessed, too?
Cole surprised her by saying, “Is this about the accident? Am I in trouble?”
Olivia’s face softened. “Oh, no, dear. I’m sorry, I should have let you know that last night. I didn’t even think about how you might worry.”
Yeah, well, he might still need to worry. Analise headed that thought off quickly. Negativity would do no good. She must be positive. Olivia had done so much, it was little enough to give back. She breathed in and put a smile on her face. “So what is this news? Tell us.”
She avoided looking at Luke.
“It’s family news, actually. But I wanted Richard and Luke to be here for . . . reasons you’ll soon see.
“It’s been a good while since I’ve thought about such things—”
Come on, get it over with.
“—but time catches up with us all, sooner or later.”
So she’s using the I’m-not-getting-any-younger approach to this decision.
Olivia glanced at Richard; then, for some odd reason, her gaze lingered on Luke. Analise glanced at him, unable to read what was on his face. It was intense, much too intense for an announcement that would mean little or nothing to him. Her gaze returned to Olivia.
“The tests from my last checkup . . . well, the cancer is back.”
Analise felt as if a bucket of warm tar had been poured over her. The heat ran from her head, clogging her lungs, until it reached her feet. She seemed to be robbed of all ability to speak. Her arms and legs wouldn’t move. She heard a little wheezing noise that she soon realized was coming from her own throat.
Cole shot to his feet. “No! The tests are wrong! Have the doctor do them again.”
Move, get up and go to him. Say something. But Analise remained stunned, still and silent.
Olivia went to her son. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she looked up into his eyes. “No, Cole. The tests are right. I knew even before I had them. I could tell.”
Analise’s gaze cut from Olivia to Richard, who appeared truly pained but remained silent, his brown eyes trying to convey support, she assumed. Then she looked at Luke. Why in the hell was Luke included in this in the first place? His face was drawn, he looked sad, but in no way surprised.
Her breath was ripped away. He knew! Luke knew! He’d known for days—since that night she’d heard him and Olivia talking. And he never breathed a word—never gave her a hint of warning of what was coming.
Cole was crying now. “You’ll get the treatment like before. It made you well. They can do it again.”
Olivia wrapped her arms around him. “They can’t make me well. I’m not having any treatments. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
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