I can’t, she thought.
Can’t or won’t? said a voice in her head.
They are the same thing, she answered.
Quickly, she typed a response.
Dear Mercedes,
Thank you for writing. I did enjoy visiting your farm. It is such a peaceful place. Perhaps I will be able to come again someday. Not soon, though. I am going to India on Wednesday. That leaves only two days to get ready. Yes, I did say India. I am taking your suggestion to visit the place where I was born and hopefully meet people who knew my birth parents. I’m planning to stay a week. My (adoptive) mother is going with me. I hope it is a fruitful trip.
I think the names for the baby goats are absolutely perfect. Tell the boys I said so. Your stallion sounds very exciting. What a wonderful surprise! But you are good to Wayne as well. I think he is happy, and so are you—isn’t that what’s important?
Have a good day,
Liana
There was more—so much more—that she could have written. About her visit with her mother. About how afterwards, as she had been running all over Las Vegas to visit her new clients and make traveling arrangements, the bustle of the city, once so attractive to her, once so useful for blocking out other emotions, had seemed crowded and dirty, a desperate slice of humanity in a world where the tapping of keyboards blared continually for all to hear. The flat, open land beyond the tall city buildings had screamed of desert, barren of life, a clear contrast to the fertile Wyoming valley that cradled Walker Farm. The barrenness echoed the barren feeling in Liana’s heart and body. Though she knew all of these emotions derived from her own inner turmoil and that there was much that was good and beautiful around her, she could not see it.
At that moment, she longed for Walker Farm, the tiny chicks like fluffy balls of new yellow dandelions, the baby goats on wobbly legs suckling at their mother’s teats. She wanted to walk through fields of new growth springing from the ground and swing over a river on a rope. She wanted to sleep in a room with a quilt that held her awkward stitches, making it seem almost as though she belonged.
Tap, tap, tap.
Liana let her head fall to her hands, closing her eyes. She took deep, cleansing breaths—in and out slowly. The tapping of the keyboards gradually faded. She knew from her experience the past few days that the tapping would stay gone if she didn’t think too much about India and what she might discover there.
Shutting down the computer, she grabbed her sandals and headed out the front door. She didn’t have a destination, but a brisk morning walk around her neighborhood was sure to clear her mind. Intent on her thoughts, she ran into Austin before she saw him.
“Whoa! Where’re you off to so fast?” His arms steadied her.
She let her eyes travel slowly up his long body to his face. “A walk.”
“In your pajamas?”
Sure enough, she was in her blue plaid lounge pants and a T-shirt. “It’s a casual area,” she said, starkly aware that she hadn’t combed her hair yet that morning.
He laughed. “I’m sure it is, but could we go inside for a moment? I’d like to talk to you.”
“Okay, but only for a moment. I have work to do.”
“It won’t take long.”
Inside, she made him wait in the living room while she changed into a fitted black suit in a stretchy rayon blend, ran a brush through her long hair, and dabbed on a bit of makeup. When she finished, she found him not in the living room where she’d left him but in the kitchen making toast.
“I didn’t think you’d mind,” he said. “I made enough for you, too.”
“I’ve already eaten.”
He grinned and shook his head. “I guess I can sacrifice and eat yours, too. I didn’t eat much on my trip and then I slept practically all day yesterday. I ate breakfast, but I’m still hungry.”
“Sounds like you need some of Mercedes’ food.”
“That’s for sure.” He took the toast to the table. “Do you have any butter? And milk?”
“In the fridge. Glasses are in that cupboard.” Liana gathered the papers she’d been working on and stacked them in the corner. “How’d work go?”
“Tiring. I went to Idaho, Oregon, and two cities in Cali fornia in two days.” He frowned at her papers. “What’s this?”
None of your business, she wanted to say, but instead she shrugged. “Taxes I’ve done for some people, that’s all.”
“Oh, good. Glad you’re finding work.”
She nodded, wishing she could keep her eyes from his face. “It’s good to know I’ll be able to build my business. I got a lot done for HeartReach as well. I’ll be finished in a few weeks.”
“That’s good. We’re putting together another shipment. I hope to have it over there by the end of this month or the first of May at the latest.”
“Before you do that, I have some investment recommendations for you—might help you earn more in the long run.”
“I’d love to consider any suggestions.”
Silence fell, heavy with the unspoken words that lay between them. Austin drank his milk, while she watched him beneath lowered eyelashes. The breeze was gone now, and her hand felt warm where the sun came through the curtains.
Austin set down his glass. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“You’ve been working.” She didn’t look through her lashes at him now, but at the slash of light on her hand. “I’ve been busy, too. I’m going to India on Wednesday. My mother and I are going.”
“You talked to your mother?”
Her eyes rose to his. “Yes.”
“And?” He cupped a hand around his glass, lifting it to his lips again.
“They fought over my uncle—my adoptive father. My mother did—mothers, I guess I should say. Clarissa married him, and my birth mother left. Later she married my dad. But we really don’t know how it all came about.”
“That’s why you’re going to India?”
She nodded. “My birth mother wrote a letter, but when my adoptive mother wrote back, she didn’t write again. We’d like to know why.”
“So would I.”
“You would?”
He shrugged. “You know, I’ve never been to India.”
There was something in his tone that hinted to be included in some way. But even if Liana could admit that she was beginning to care for him, the trip to India was hers alone to make and to plan for. Hers and Clarissa’s. She wouldn’t share it with him, or even with her brothers. Besides, it would complicate things to have him tagging along.
“Guess you’ll have to go sometime. When you’re not working. After spending nearly a week out of the office, I’m sure you have work piled up on your desk.”
“Got that right,” he said with a sigh.
“Want more milk?” She stood and went to the refrigerator.
“When are you going to ask me?”
She froze with the carton above his glass. Her hand felt cold. “Ask you what?”
“When I’m going to see my dad.”
She poured the milk with relief. Truthfully, she had forgotten about their agreement in all the excitement of talking to Clarissa and planning the trip to India.
“So when are you going to see him?” she asked, sitting down in her chair again.
He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know, but I’ll have to do it, I suppose.” Looking at his watch, he sighed again. Draining his glass in a few gulps, he stood. “I have to get to the office and that mound of work you mentioned.”
“You’re late already.”
“Yeah, I know.”
As they walked into the entryway, the vision of how he’d kissed her in this same spot made her rush to the door and open it. He paused just short of the doorway, his black eyes delving into hers. “I did come over yesterday between naps—twice actually. You weren’t here.”
“I was with Christian, and then we went to our parents’ for dinner. We met Bret’s fiancée.”
“He’s your other brother, rig
ht? The one with the cabin in Utah.”
She’d forgotten she’d told him about the cabin on their trip to Wyoming. “Yeah, that’s Bret.”
“You like her?”
“The fiancée?” She shrugged. “She’s beautiful.”
He hadn’t moved, but Liana was suddenly having difficulty concentrating on the conversation. It seemed so pointless when there were other more important things they should be discussing.
“No brains?” he asked.
“Brains, yes. And ambition.” She stepped away from him. Maybe more space between them would clear her mind. “I guess she rubbed me the wrong way. But then, I’m not really a people person.”
“You liked Mercedes.”
“That’s different.”
“You like me.”
“Yes.” There, it was out. Liana held her breath at what might come next.
His eyes didn’t waver from her face. She could see the thin scar on his forehead clearly, trace its path into the arch of his hair. She still didn’t know how it had happened.
“There’s something here, Liana. Can you feel it?”
She took another step back, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes didn’t leave hers. “It is something. Something big. And, yes, maybe a little scary.”
She was still shaking her head, willing him to stop.
“I think about you all the time,” he continued. “It’s driving me crazy.”
He was driving her crazy. “We have nothing in common,” she said. “Absolutely nothing. I drive a cute convertible, you drive an ugly brute of a truck. I work with numbers; you manage people. I like hip rock music; you like whiny country noise. I saw that cowboy hat in your closet back in Wyoming, and I bet you even have a pair of genuine cowboy boots somewhere.”
“They’re at my house.”
“See?” She raised her hand to emphasize the point. “I simply refuse to wear cowboy boots. We have absolutely nothing in common. Nothing.”
“We have steamed white rice and Chinese food.”
“With lame fortune cookies,” she retorted. But she was unable to prevent a smile.
“We have a rope over a river.” He took several steps, closing the space between them. “We have this.” He leaned forward and kissed her. At first she didn’t respond, but as his arms tightened around her body, she returned his kiss.
After a moment, she broke away. “I’m not denying the attraction between us, but I can’t promise anything more.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not just attraction, Liana, and I don’t want to be like any other guy you’ve known. I think I want . . . well, your heart.” He tapped her chest far above her left breast, sending tingles through her body.
She shook her head. “It’s too soon.” But time didn’t have anything to do with her feelings, not really. To tell someone you were beginning to love them seemed difficult enough. To promise you would love them for life—that was utterly impossible. What happened if she woke up one day and decided she’d made a mistake? Love was too transitory, too potentially painful. Look at what had happened to her birth mother when she had given her heart to a man whose love had eventually gone to another. No, it was better to keep things on a level she understood.
“I don’t think it’s too soon,” Austin said. “I know what I want.”
“Do you always know what you want?”
His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Yes.”
Liana wondered what such confidence would be like. The only thing she was sure about at this moment was that she was going to India, and thanks to her adoptive mother’s financial generosity, it wouldn’t put her in the poor house.
“I think,” she said, “that you want what Mercedes has. And I’m sorry to say that you’re looking in the wrong place.”
There was hurt in his eyes, but Liana had only been telling the truth.
“Maybe.” Austin went through the open door. “I’ll talk to you when you get home.”
She watched him drive away.
CHAPTER 18
Diary of Karyn Olsen
Friday, June 28, 1972
I’m packing, and I found this diary, long neglected (almost three and a half years!). Funny how I used to write in it so much. Now I don’t have the time. The last entry said I was going back to school. Well, I did that, and I became a nurse—a nurse in labor and delivery. I crammed my classes in as fast as I could to make up for lost time. Now I’m leaving not only California but the whole country! I’m going to India to work in a volunteer hospital sponsored by a charity organization. I learned about this opportunity a few months ago and thought it sounded interesting and challenging, but I was reluctant to leave somehow. It was like I was waiting for something that would reconnect me with my family or tear me away forever.
That something happened two weeks ago. I went into work and found that Clarissa was in the hospital where I worked. When I read her name on the roster, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. I wandered down to the nursery, and sure enough there was Travis, looking in the window at a baby. He didn’t notice me, but he looked just the same as when I met him. My heart wanted to burst, and at that moment I wished I could run in and grab the baby, secreting it away so that I could cause Clarissa the kind of pain she caused me.
I’m ashamed of that feeling now. I’m a nurse, and I want to care for people, not hurt them. Not even Clarissa. What kind of a person am I to feel this way toward my own sister?
Next to Travis was a little boy who was a perfect miniature of him. Must be my nephew, Christian. He stood like Travis, too, with his little hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at the baby through the window. I wondered if he knew about me. Had they shown him a picture? Or had they decided to . . . to what? Forget me? Write me out of their precious equations?
Well, I waited until Travis and his son left, and then I went to see the baby—another beautiful little boy. Didn’t look a thing like Travis. I wanted to hold him, but I didn’t dare. I didn’t want them to catch me, and I most certainly didn’t trust myself not to run away with the child. My nephew. Another baby who should have been mine.
I left work sick, knowing I had the next few days off and that Clarissa would be gone before I had to go back. As soon as I got home I called the charity and volunteered, squeezing into their program barely in time. Now two weeks have gone by, and in another two days, I’ll be out of the country. I know it’s the right thing to do. Maybe helping people who are too poor to help themselves will take this evil from my heart. Because I find I’m still mad at Clarissa for what she did to me. Furious, actually. With both her and Mother. Part of me wishes they had done more to reconnect with me. Mostly, though, I wish I could get over it all and forget them. It’s been six years, and I’ve finally gone forward with my life—so why does my heart remain with the past?
Liana awoke abruptly, her heart pounding and her T-shirt soaked with sweat. The nightmare always seemed so real, but this time it was worse. The lady weeping, the child staring, her frightened eyes reflecting a pain too terrible to voice. Tears running like rain until they threatened to sweep everyone away. The piercing scream that was as sharp and jagged as the broken glass in the window behind the child who stared without speaking.
Her room was lit only by the faint moonlight radiating from behind the curtains in the window. Dark shadows made it unfamiliar to Liana, and she stumbled to the light switch, wishing she had a bedside lamp. The room sprang into familiarity with the flip of the switch, and only then did her heartbeat return to a steady thud.
She found the picture in her nightstand and looked at it for a long time. “Who are you?” she asked the woman in the picture. She looked so happy—was it only an illusion? Perhaps I will find out in India.
Going to the window, Liana looked out into the dark. Below she could see her tiny backyard and those of several neighbors. There was room on the patio slab for a gas barbeque grill, a table, and six chairs. A slim str
ip of grass exactly the size of her neighbors’ strips. She loved that backyard. Easy to control, to take care of. Like her numbers, it was completely predictable and safe.
But neither did it hold the exhilaration of a swing from a tree over a river.
The moon hung low on the horizon, overshadowing the pinpricks of starlight that quilted the sky. She knew that even before the moon disappeared, the rays from the sun would light up the eastern sky and completely drown out any remaining moonlight. But for now the moon ruled the night sky that was as black as Austin’s midnight eyes.
She hadn’t talked to him since Monday, though she had received an impersonal e-mail about the charity. She’d replied with an update on her work. What had she expected—that he’d accept her uncertainty and reluctance with perfect understanding?
She had known Austin was different. When he had taken her to Wyoming, she had seen firsthand the life he wanted: the relationship his sister had with Wayne, never mind that a part of Mercedes’ heart would always belong to someone else. What Mercedes and Wayne had was real and solid. Enough to build a life together—and to find happiness.
Could Liana ever hope for that? She didn’t think so.
Most women she knew would have jumped at a chance for a relationship with a man who wanted a future, but the idea put terror into her heart. What if she began to really care about him? What if down the road it wasn’t her who changed her mind, but him? What if he didn’t change his mind but instead fate stepped in? A downed plane, a car accident—there were too many variations to consider.
Better to avoid the situation altogether. Austin attracted her like no man she’d ever met, but there were too many ghosts between them. Mostly hers, but his too, with his ideals and dreams that were based on his need for a relationship that didn’t resemble the one that had killed his mother. Their pasts darkly colored the future.
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