by Brenda Novak
TUCKER WAS DEAD TIRED and still he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep, and yet he couldn’t go down the hall to join Gabrielle. He was pacing a hole in the carpet in front of the sofa, torn between the belief that he’d done the right thing and the temptation to forget about the right thing altogether.
He’d been insane to come here, he decided. And yet he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. He’d scarcely been able to think of anything or anyone besides Gabrielle since he watched her drive away with David after they’d emerged from the desert.
David…The thought of Gabrielle’s ex-husband and the close relationship that still existed between them bothered Tucker as though he had some stake in the situation, something to lose. But of course he didn’t….
A noise at the back of the trailer brought Tucker to a standstill. Suddenly alert, he listened for the sound to be repeated, then heaved a sigh of relief when he recognized a baby’s soft gurgle. It was nothing to worry about. Allie was awake; that was all.
Tucker wondered if Gabrielle could hear her daughter. He guessed she couldn’t when the door to her bedroom remained firmly closed. If he waited long enough, he was sure Allie would begin to cry and Gabrielle would come for her. But there seemed little point in waking Gabrielle when he was already awake.
Hesitating for only a moment, he strode to the baby’s bedroom. He’d seen Allie in the car the same day he’d met David, but he’d been beyond thirst and hunger then and living on nerves. He’d hardly given the child a glance. But what he remembered was a chubby baby with a pink, bowlike mouth and blond flyaway hair, and that was exactly what he found. Sitting in her crib, chewing on a couple of fingers, Allie gave him her full attention the moment he stepped into the room. Evidently she’d been waiting for someone to come. She probably couldn’t remember him from their brief encounter, but that didn’t seem to matter. She immediately grabbed the slats of her crib, pulled herself to her feet and gave him a gap-toothed grin so full of trust he couldn’t help returning it.
“Da…da…da…” She stomped her feet and held out her arms to him, as though morning had arrived and she was ready to be set free for the day.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Tucker said. He’d been through this with Landon. If he took her out of her crib, she’d never go back to sleep.
“Are you hungry, babe?” He looked through her bedding and found an empty milk bottle. Holding it, he started to leave, but she began to cry the second he moved toward the door.
“Shh, don’t cry, Allie. I’ll be right back, okay? Look, I’m going to fix you another bottle.”
“Ba…ba…ba,” she replied. He’d gained her approval there, but the quiver of her lip and the tears glistening in her eyes indicated she’d only cry again if he left her.
He gauged his chances of preparing the bottle and returning before she awakened the whole house, and didn’t deem them very good. Not only that, if Gabrielle came out of her bedroom now, he wouldn’t be able to let her return alone. Not a second time. And not if she was still wearing that T-shirt and those damn shorts….
He considered the alternative. Maybe Allie wasn’t like Landon. Maybe she’d go back to sleep even if he got her out for a few minutes. Or maybe it wasn’t even a bottle she wanted. She could be wet.
Her smile reappeared the instant he moved toward her again, and he laughed softly at how easily she’d manipulated him. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s change your diaper. Then we’ll make that bottle I promised you.”
Allie was definitely as soft as she looked, and she smelled of baby shampoo and baby powder. Tucker decided he liked those scents almost as much as the little-boy smells that clung to Landon. His son was now eight years old, but Tucker remembered his diapering days well. That was before Andrea had gotten so caught up in the lifestyle she’d been living at the end, before he realized his marriage would probably end in divorce.
A changing table took up part of one wall. Allie waited patiently while Tucker laid her down and used the supply of paper diapers on the shelf beneath to change her. The receptacle next to the changing table made a small clang when he disposed of the wet diaper, but the rest of the house remained quiet.
So far, so good. Except that Gabrielle’s daughter didn’t seem sleepy at all. She clapped her hands and squirmed for him to pick her up before he could get her pajamas back in place.
“Just a minute, babe. I’m a little rusty and this cast isn’t helping much,” he told her, struggling to manage the snaps on her Winnie the Pooh one-piece.
She jammed one fist in her mouth as he carried her from the room, and he wondered what Hansen and the others would think if they could see him now. No doubt they expected him to be on the run, heading for the border or hiding in Phoenix or some other place big enough to get lost in a crowd. Instead he was right across the street from the prison, getting a fresh bottle for Gabrielle’s baby.
His smile disappeared as the irony of it gave way to an awareness of everyone’s horrified reaction. No one would believe a baby to be safe around him. According to the papers, the police feared for his own son’s well-being. Because of that one bogus trial, that one dreadful travesty of justice, everyone assumed the worst, even though he’d never hurt a woman or a child in his life and never would.
Now, a man was a different story. Tucker thought if he ever got his hands on Hansen, he’d hurt him pretty badly. That was where he’d changed. He’d learned hate, and he’d begun to crave vengeance.
Allie tried to share her wet fist with him. As he moved her hand away, he purposely turned his mind from those dark thoughts to the beautiful baby in his arms. Gabrielle was lucky. She’d soon forget about him, marry again, have more children, live a normal life.
He wanted those things for her, even though he wasn’t the one who could give them to her. He wanted those things badly enough to sleep on the couch.
GABRIELLE WOKE with a start. Her heart hammered in competition with the chug of the swamp cooler, and the morning sun glared harshly through her blinds, yet it was only six o’clock.
“Jeez, how could it be so hot already?” she muttered.
Damp with sweat, she rolled over and stared at her closed door as everything that had happened the night before came tumbling back to her. Deep down, she’d believed Tucker would eventually join her. She knew she couldn’t have imagined the way his eyes had devoured her, the hunger she saw in them. Nearly every time she looked at him, she’d caught him staring at her. But he’d remained on the couch—unless he’d already slipped out of her trailer as quietly as he’d slipped in.
Or maybe the whole encounter had been a dream.
She kicked away the sheet and sat up, putting a hand to her head. Too little sleep and too much stress had combined to give her a terrible headache.
At least she wouldn’t feel guilty when she called in sick, she thought. She was supposed to report to Eyman Complex in just a few hours, but she couldn’t go anywhere if Tucker left Landon with her.
Standing, she shoved a hand through her hair and shuffled toward the hall. She needed to find out if Tucker was still around. And she wanted to check on Allie. Last night had seemed so long it was almost surreal. It felt like days since she’d seen her daughter.
She glanced in to Landon’s room, just to be certain he wasn’t a figment of her imagination, and discovered him sleeping peacefully, which answered one question.
When she reached the kitchen, she saw the frying pan she’d used to make Tucker’s eggs in the dish drainer. In the living room, she found the T-shirt he’d been wearing tossed onto her vinyl recliner and his sandals at the foot of her couch—all further proof that she hadn’t dreamed a thing. Not that she needed incidental proof anymore. Tucker was still there, big as life, sleeping on her couch. And Allie was with him.
Gabrielle’s heart melted at the sight of the man she loved holding her baby. He’d seemed so hardened in prison, so powerful and dangerous. But he looked almost boyish now, with his hair mussed and his face softened in sleep.
Allie lay on her belly, her cheek to his bare chest, sleeping comfortably if appearances were anything to judge by, and Gabrielle was so moved by the sight she went for her camera. She knew it was stupid to want to preserve this moment. A photograph would only prove her guilty of aiding and abetting his escape. But she had to have something to hold on to because she couldn’t hold on to him.
The flash woke Tucker. His blue eyes opened and focused on her immediately. Then his brows gathered in a scowl. “Give me that,” he whispered, trying not to wake Allie, who stirred anyway.
“No,” Gabrielle said.
“You can’t have a picture of me sleeping in your house, Gabby. You shouldn’t have a photograph of me at all.”
He’d torn David out of one of her pictures and then taken the photo with him. “You have a picture of me.”
Allie raised her head and grinned sleepily at Gabrielle. Gabrielle lifted her baby into her arms and kissed her soft cheek, trying not to let her eyes linger on Tucker’s broad chest. He’d rebuffed her once. She had no intention of asking for a second rejection.
“That’s different,” he said, the muscles in his arm bunching as he leaned up on one elbow. “That’s an old picture, and it doesn’t prove anything except that we crossed paths, which Hansen and the others already know.”
“So? You have to leave me with something,” she said. “I can’t go through everything we’ve been through and walk away empty-handed.”
He seemed to consider her answer. Surprisingly he dropped the subject. “I’ve got to go. Can I use your shower?”
The thought of all six-foot-something of him naked in her shower made Gabrielle’s cheeks flush. “Of course. I’ll get you a towel.”
She turned and headed down the hall and could hear him following barefoot behind her. “Do you need me to wash some clothes for you while you’re gone?” she asked.
They’d entered her bedroom, and he didn’t answer. He glanced around, taking in the worn and dated furnishings.
For the first time, Gabrielle wished she’d tried harder to make this place a home. “I’m only staying here temporarily until I can afford something better,” she explained.
He rested one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms. “David seemed like a successful guy. Why did you leave him for this? For working in a damn prison?”
Gabrielle folded her arms, too. “You know why. I already told you.”
“You also said you love him.”
“I said I didn’t love him in the right way.”
“So? What does that really mean? Maybe I’ve never loved anyone in the right way.”
“You said it last night, Tucker. The right way is loving so much it sometimes hurts. It’s loving another person so much you’d sooner stop breathing than stop loving them.”
“Why can’t you love David like that?”
Gabrielle didn’t know why. She’d always liked him, admired him. But it was as if her soul was holding out, secretly yearning for the one man who could complete her. And now she’d found him. She knew she couldn’t have him, but there was still no chance for her and David. Not after loving Tucker, not after proving to herself that the emotional depths she’d imagined were not only real but possible—even for her. “There’s no explanation for some things, Tucker.” She frowned. “Why are you pushing me toward David?”
He ran a finger lightly down her cheek, his touch filling Gabrielle with the same longing she’d felt last night—to be significant to him in the most fundamental way, to join with him and share her body, her heart, her life. “Because I want you safe. Even from me.”
Meeting the icy blue of his eyes, she covered his hand with her own and nestled her cheek against his palm. “I’m not afraid of you, Tucker. I’m in love with you.”
The look on his face told her how unexpected her words were. She watched as several emotions gripped him—first and foremost, an obvious desire to believe her. For a brief moment she felt his fingers tighten as though he’d give in and pull her toward him. But then the opposing emotion—“I can’t get hurt if I don’t let myself need anyone”—seemed to win out, and he moved away.
“I’m sorry, Gabby. I can’t allow myself to care about you,” he said. “I can’t even stay more than a couple of days. Don’t sell yourself so short.”
Taking the towel she handed him, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, and Gabrielle let her breath go in a long sigh. So much for avoiding rejection a second time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GABRIELLE STARED across the kitchen table at Landon. He stared right back at her.
Tucker had gone into his son’s room just an hour earlier to explain that he’d be gone for a while, but Landon was obviously not happy about being left behind. He was so unhappy, in fact, that he’d apparently decided he wouldn’t speak—to Gabrielle or to Allie. His silence didn’t bother Allie. She kept bringing him her toys and dropping them at his feet or patting him joyfully on the leg, thrilled by the mere presence of another child.
Gabrielle wasn’t quite so pleased. How was she supposed to get through a whole day of this silent animosity?
She glanced at Landon’s barely touched plate, considered coaxing him to eat more, then decided not to waste her breath. Going by his attitude, if he thought she wanted him to eat, he’d refuse. If he thought she didn’t want him to eat, she might have half a chance of getting some food down him.
“Are you finished?” she asked as cheerfully as possible. “Because I’d like that egg if you’re not going to eat it.”
He looked at her with those eyes that were so much like his father’s—confident bordering on arrogant, complex, deep—and neither shoved his plate away nor ate his egg. He mutilated it until even a dog would refuse it.
“Thanks,” she said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm as she carried his plate to the sink.
“When’s my father coming back?” he asked, repeating the only words he would utter.
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “But you and I have a decision to make. We can be miserable the whole time he’s gone, or we can relax and make the best of a bad situation.”
“He is coming back, isn’t he?” he asked.
Ah, new words. That was progress. But Gabrielle couldn’t answer even this simple question with any more certainty than she had the first one. “I know he’d walk through fire to get to you. Does that help?”
Landon didn’t answer, but the guarded expression on his face softened Gabrielle’s heart. The poor kid had been through a lot. He’d lost both parents at the age of six and had probably been trying to make sense of his world ever since. But then he opened his mouth again, and some of her sympathy faded.
“What are you and that stupid baby to my dad?”
Maybe the silent treatment wasn’t so bad, Gabrielle thought. “Allie is not a stupid baby, Landon, and I’d appreciate it if you’d remember your manners while you’re here. Your father and I are friends.”
“Are you his new wife?”
Gabrielle cleared her throat and busied herself with washing up. “No.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because your father needed someone to watch you for a while, and I’m trying to help him out. Only you’re not making it very easy.”
“I don’t like it here,” he said.
“That’s obvious.”
“I want to go home.”
Gabrielle finished filling the sink with hot soapy water and turned to face him. “Where’s home, Landon?” she asked softly.
His face fell and he began to kick the leg of his chair. “It’s with my father.”
“Then you’re in the right place, because this is where he’s coming back for you.”
He lapsed into silence again, and Gabrielle’s sympathy returned full force as she watched him struggle against tears.
“It’s okay to cry, Landon,” she said. “We all cry now and then. I know you’re unhappy and that you miss your dad a lot, but—”
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nbsp; “Shut up! I’m not crying. Only sissies cry,” he shouted, and ran down the hall to the bedroom he’d slept in.
Gabrielle felt completely out of her element. How could she help the poor kid? He was so much like his father—too stubborn and proud for his own good.
The slamming of the door scared Allie. Puckering her lower lip, she looked to her mother in bewilderment, then broke into a howl. Gabrielle wasn’t far from tears herself. To top it all off, the telephone rang. Gabrielle eyed it nervously, wishing she didn’t need to answer. She’d called in sick. It could be someone from the prison. Or it might be Felicia. Her baby-sitter had still been asleep when she’d called to let her know she didn’t need her today. Gabrielle had left a message with her mother.
Resolutely she picked up the phone. “Gabby? Is it you?” the caller asked.
“Yeah, it’s me,” she said, sweeping Allie into her arms and trying to comfort her so she could hear.
“It’s…it’s Naomi. I…I got hold of Lindy this morning, and, well, we were hoping you’d be able to join us for dinner at my place tomorrow night. My son, Conrad, might be able to make it, too. He has some commitments, but he’s going to try and reschedule.”
Her mother seemed to be talking too fast, as though she was afraid Gabrielle would refuse, given half a chance. Gabrielle knew she should refuse; she had too much to deal with right now, and most of it was criminal. She was baby-sitting a kidnapped boy for an escaped convict, and she was letting that escaped convict sleep at her place. But she could detect the hope in her mother’s voice and, much as she thought Naomi deserved it, she couldn’t disappoint her. Especially since she was dying to meet her siblings. “Okay. Is there anything you’d like me to bring?”
“No, just yourself and an appetite. Hal’s planning to grill steaks. I’ll make some salads. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“No.”
“Fine. We’ll stick with that menu.”
“Sounds good.”
“Is six o’clock okay?”