by Jane Graves
As he passed Tasha’s Boutique, Ginger spotted him from inside the shop. She trotted over, hopped up on a chair, and barked. Tasha froze, her scissors hovering over a woman’s wet hair, and watched as Luke passed by. No smile, no wave. A few doors down, three of Rosie’s booths along the window were occupied. Those people stopped eating to watch him walk by, their faces filled with lurid curiosity. He didn’t recognize them, but the crawly sensation in his stomach told him they recognized him. It felt so strange to walk this street again as if he was an outsider. As if he wasn’t part of this place anymore, and it wasn’t part of him. And Shannon…
No. He couldn’t think about her now, or he wouldn’t be able to stand it.
A few minutes later, he’d climbed into his truck and left Rainbow Valley, heading for the shelter. When he reached it, he thanked God nobody was there yet, including Shannon. He gathered his meager belongings from his apartment and tossed them into his truck.
Then he thought about Manny and Fluffy.
He stopped for a moment, his hand on the driver’s door. Fluffy would be adopted soon. Luke would miss him fiercely, but he was such a sweet, engaging dog in spite of the way he’d been treated that eventually he’d live out his life with someone who would love him.
Manny was another story.
Luke hadn’t been there long enough to turn him around completely, and that meant he’d likely be at the shelter forever. Luke only hoped that somehow, some way, the little horse would find some kind of peace with the abuse he’d suffered, some way to reconcile the fear he felt without the shadow of it clinging to him every day of his life.
Luke turned onto the highway again, heading for the interstate. He thought about texting Shannon to tell her he was gone, then wondered why he would bother. She’d find out soon enough, and after what had happened, she’d be damned glad of it. After all, in the span of a few minutes, he’d confirmed what everybody in this town had always thought about him. That he was his father’s son, now and forever.
Luke slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Damn it! Why had he done it? Why? One moment he was brushing off Russell’s comments like a fly off his sleeve. In the next moment, it was as if the words found their way inside him, waking up that part of him he thought he’d buried for good, driving him to do something—anything—to take away the anger and the pain.
Drive. Just drive. Leave this place, and do it now!
Then, in the distance, he saw his father’s house.
As much as Luke knew he should keep going, indecision gripped him. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from slowing down as he approached it. Finally he pulled to the shoulder, his truck idling. Most of the fall leaves on the property had departed the scraggly trees, and he could just make out the house behind them—the house that held every bad memory this life had ever given him.
You’re still scared of it. In spite of everything, you’re still scared to go inside an old, empty house. You’re not a kid anymore. For God’s sake, just man up and do it!
He touched the gas. Turned onto the property.
No! Go back to the highway. Head for Denver. Now. Goddamn it, don’t you ever learn? Drive!
Even as the conflicting commands warred inside his mind, he knew the truth. If he didn’t face this now, the ghosts that lived inside those walls would rise up and haunt him until the day he died. It unnerved him to know how much emotion was still tied up in it, emotion that teetered on the brink of his subconscious, ready to come screaming out at the least provocation, just as it had last night.
It was time to put it to rest once and for all.
Shannon had barely slept the night before, and as she drove toward the shelter now, anger and heartache were still all mangled together in her mind. She knew Russell must have said something to Luke to provoke that kind of response, but did it really matter? Men settled their differences with words, and kids settled them with their fists. Luke had thrown the first punch—admitted it, even—and that was absolutely intolerable to her, particularly after he’d told her he’d gotten past it all, grown up, become his own man. But that wasn’t how he’d acted last night. Last night he’d been just like the bitter, destructive kid she’d known all those years ago.
She knew that wasn’t who Luke was today. She knew it. But there was no denying what he’d done, and now he was in jail. If Russell pushed this to the limit, Luke could actually go to prison for assault.
As she started to turn onto the drive leading into the shelter, she happened to glance down the highway to Glenn Dawson’s property. Autumn foliage had fallen away, making the house visible.
Luke’s truck was parked out front.
She blinked with surprise. As angry as Russell had been, she hadn’t expected to see Luke released from jail so soon, and if he couldn’t make bail, maybe not at all.
Stay away. Nothing good can come from talking to him.
But she couldn’t let it go. She knew if she didn’t get to the bottom of what had happened, the image of the sheriff putting him into that police car would stay with her forever.
She hit the gas and continued down the highway to the gravel road that led to Glenn Dawson’s house. She had no idea what she was going to say to Luke, but one way or another, she was going to find out the truth.
Luke sidestepped the gaping hole in the front porch and put his hand on the doorknob. He turned it, and when he heard the squeak of rusty hinges, it was all he could do not to turn around and run. Instead, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to step inside. In that instant, horrific memories from years past rushed through time to freeze him to the spot where he stood.
The place still reeked of filth and fury. The walls bled tobacco stains from the Camels his father had chain-smoked. A trash can beside the sofa was overflowing with empty whiskey bottles. He glanced into the kitchen, where a pair of dirty glasses still stood in the dull, pockmarked sink.
Luke wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, resisting the urge to bolt. Before coming inside, he’d told himself all he had to do was see it for what it was—a dirty old house—and the hateful feelings would vanish. So why was his heart suddenly racing?
Then he turned toward his bedroom, and tears instantly filled his eyes.
In that moment, he knew nothing had changed. He was going to feel the shadow of this house clinging to him for the rest of his life. He was both a cowering kid who couldn’t even stand in this place without crying, and a man who couldn’t take an insult from another man without losing control. He’d convinced himself he was over it. But he wasn’t over a damned thing. It was still wrapped around his brain like an invasive tumor that would suck the life out of him from now until the end of time. Why couldn’t he let it go? Why?
Then he heard a noise behind him.
Shannon stepped to one side to avoid the hole in the porch decking, then pushed the door open to find Luke standing in what passed as the living room. Ratty, stained furniture sat on threadbare carpet, and the windows were so filthy only a small amount of light filtered through.
When the old door hinges squeaked, Luke spun around, his eyes wide with surprise. Then his gaze landed on Shannon, and his brows drew together with irritation. She strode into the house and stopped in front of him.
“How did you manage to get out of jail?” she asked.
“I broke out. Grabbed the sheriff’s gun. Now I’m a fugitive on the run.”
Shannon’s heart skipped a couple of beats.
“You believed that, didn’t you?” Luke said mockingly. “Just for a second or two, you actually believed it.”
“After last night I don’t know what to believe. Luke? What happened?”
He raised his chin in anger, his eyes boring into her. “Russell Morgensen is a son of a bitch.”
“Oh, yeah? Exactly what did he do to warrant you damn near breaking his jaw?”
“He’s got a big mouth.”
“That’s it? He said something to you? Good God, Luke! You’re not a kid anymore with something t
o prove. You’re a grown man who ought to know better than to throw a punch like that!”
“You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“I went out on a limb for you,” she said. “I’ve been telling everybody you’re not the kid you used to be, that you’re nothing like your father, and that they’re fools for thinking you are.”
“I don’t give a damn what you or anybody else in this town thinks. Least of all Russell.”
“Yeah? You don’t give a damn? So why did you pick a fight with him?”
“I didn’t start the fight.”
“But you sure finished it, didn’t you?”
“So that’s why you’re here? To take up for Russell?”
“I’m not taking up for Russell!”
“Okay. Fine. You’ve already told me how angry you are that I punched him. If there’s nothing else, why don’t you just leave?”
She opened her mouth to say something, only to close it again.
“I’m just a dumb, angry kid who can’t keep his fists to himself,” Luke said. “So why are you wasting your time with me?”
She didn’t know why. She didn’t know. She’d just seen his truck, gotten angry—
“I’m getting ready to leave this place forever,” Luke went on. “I bet you’re pretty happy about that now, aren’t you?”
No. She wasn’t happy about it. She was angry with him, her fists squeezed into balls so tight her fingernails were practically drawing blood, but still, the thought of him leaving—
“So why not just go about your business and forget I ever came here?”
“I-I don’t know,” she stammered.
“You don’t know? You don’t know? Then why don’t you get out of here and leave me the hell alone?”
“Because I love you!”
For several seconds, the house was deathly quiet. Luke just stood there, blinking with surprise. She couldn’t believe she’d said it. The words hadn’t even formed in her mind before they came out of her mouth. But the moment they passed her lips, she knew how true they were.
She loved him. She didn’t know when it had started. Maybe when they were at the rodeo. Maybe when he rescued Fluffy. Maybe when he’d taken her to his secret lookout. Maybe she really had loved him when they were teenagers and she’d never stopped. She didn’t know. She only knew she loved him, and that was why she was there.
Her anger melted away, leaving her with nothing but the relief of finally admitting what she’d felt for weeks. And in spite of what had happened last night that had led to this moment, she knew he felt it, too. She knew it.
Now she just wanted to understand. Understand why the man she’d come to know so well had done something so wrong when she knew in her heart that wasn’t who he was at all. But then his eyes grew hard, and a shiver of apprehension crept down her spine. A derisive laugh escaped his lips.
“Love?” he said. “You don’t love me. I’m just one more pitiful stray you feel obligated to take in.”
She drew back. “What?”
“It’s what you do. You can’t stand to watch poor, pathetic creatures suffer. Look around you. I’m definitely more pathetic than most.”
“What are you talking about? This place isn’t you!”
“According to everyone in that town, it is.”
She inched closer to Luke, her heart beating wildly. “What did he say to you? What did Russell say last night to make you so angry?”
“He didn’t have to say anything to make me want to hit him. All he had to do was show up.”
“Luke! What did he say?”
Luke’s gaze was hard and impenetrable, but his throat convulsed with a hard swallow. “He said you deserved a better man than the son of the town drunk.”
Shannon’s mouth fell open. She knew Russell was threatened by Luke, but for him to say something like that—
“Don’t act so surprised,” Luke said. “After all, you felt the same way a few years ago.”
“I never felt that way about you!”
“The hell you didn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. What happened back then has nothing to do with what’s happening now. Just forget all that!”
“Will you take a look around you?” he shouted. “How the hell am I supposed to forget?”
“By realizing you’re not the kid you were. And knowing that whatever happened back then doesn’t affect the man you are now. Not unless you let it.” She took a few steps toward him, putting her hand against his arm. “All this is past history,” she said gently. “You need to get over it, Luke. Just get over it.”
His eyes narrowed, his mouth settling into a grim line of rage. “Get over it? You think it’s that easy? Just get over it?”
All at once, he grabbed her arm. She tried to shake loose, but he held on tightly. He turned and headed for the dining room, dragging her along behind him. “See that?” he said, pointing to a hole in the wall. “Know where that came from?”
“Luke—”
“The back of my head,” Luke said, his voice quavering. “I’m damned lucky it went through the wall. If there had been a stud behind that part of the Sheetrock, I’d probably be dead right now.”
Luke was at least six feet tall. That hole in the wall couldn’t have been more than five feet high. Shannon’s stomach turned over with disgust.
And then he was pulling her along again, this time to the kitchen. He yanked open a drawer. “See this?” he said, holding up a rusty spatula. “This was one of his favorite weapons. It has holes in it. You know what that feels like across your bare legs?” Luke hurled it across the room. It hit a window and shattered it, raining glass down on the filthy wood floors. Shannon shied away hard, but he grabbed her arm again.
“Luke, please—”
Ignoring her pleas, he dragged her into one of the bedrooms and yanked up a loose floorboard.
“I wanted a dog so bad I could taste it,” he said, breathing hard. “Of course I did. I lived in fucking Rainbow Valley, where everybody has a pet. But my father told me if I ever brought a dog home, he’d kill it. And he’d have done it, too. You think I wanted to watch that happen?”
He reached into the hole and pulled out a stuffed dog. Brown, with dirty, ragged fur and black button eyes.
“A woman at the thrift store gave it to me. When we left, I put it under my coat so my father wouldn’t see it. If he had, he would have ripped it to shreds. That’s what passed as a pet for me. A damned stuffed animal.” Luke hurled it across the room.
Shannon pressed her hand over her stomach, sick with the realization of what his life had been like. But it was over. His father was dead and gone. This had to stop.
“I know he drank,” she said carefully. “I know he was terrible to you. But—”
“You don’t have any idea what my father did to me. None at all. You couldn’t even imagine—”
“But it’s over now. He’d dead.”
“It’ll never be over! As long as I’m drawing breath, it’ll never be over!”
“Luke, I know he hit you. But—”
“Hit me? You think that’s all there was to it? He hit me? Christ, I used to pray that was all he’d do!”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“He’d get mad for no reason,” Luke said, his breath harsh and raspy. “I’d hear him fly into a rage. Then he’d come into my bedroom and tell me whatever he was angry about was my fault.” He turned his gaze up to the closet door beside him. “Then he’d drag me into that closet. Slam the door.” Luke swallowed hard. “Then he’d nail the door shut.”
Shannon followed Luke’s gaze to several bent, rusty nails scattered on the floor, then along the edge of the closet door, where she saw a dozen holes where nails had once been. Nausea crept through her stomach. She couldn’t imagine it. She couldn’t imagine any human being treating a child like that.
“Sometimes he left me there for two or three days,” Luke said. “No food, no water. Every time I heard hi
m pound that hammer, I thought I was going to die. I cried…I screamed…”
For a few sickening moments, Shannon felt as if she was right there in that closet with Luke, hearing his cries, feeling his pain. “My God,” she said, horror snaking along every nerve. “He did that to you? Your own father?”
Luke reached back inside the hole beneath the floor and brought out something that made Shannon’s blood crawl to a near halt. A knife. Long and wicked, tarnished with age. He turned it over, and it glinted dully in the faint light.
“One day I stole this from the hardware store. I hid it under this floorboard. I told myself if he ever touched me again, I’d kill him.”
Shannon felt light-headed, her mind reeling. What if he’d done it? What if he’d murdered his own father? His life would have been over. Over, for doing something he was driven to do by a force he felt he couldn’t stop any other way.
“He never knew it was there,” Luke said. “But he knew something was different. Knew I wasn’t taking it anymore. He never touched me again. But I was still afraid. Every single night…so afraid…”
Luke slammed the knife back into the hole again and stood up, his eyes glistening. When he spoke again, his voice was clogged with emotion.
“I couldn’t stop him! No matter what I said, what I did, he kept coming at me! Over and over and—”
She reached for him. “Luke—”
“Don’t touch me!” He jerked his arm away, holding up his palms, and Shannon drew back as if he’d slapped her.
“I-I didn’t know,” she said helplessly, her voice trembling. “I was a kid like you. I couldn’t have known!”
“Yeah, but what about everybody else? How could somebody not know? How in the name of God could the people in this town not know something was wrong? They saw him. They saw me, dirty and bruised and scared. I was just a little kid, and they left me with that monster! Why didn’t somebody do something?”
She didn’t know. She’d only been a kid herself. Luke’s age. Sleeping in her Barbie bed in one of the biggest houses in Rainbow Valley at the same time he’d been living this nightmare. In that moment, any problem she’d ever had in her life seemed so horribly, painfully insignificant that she couldn’t even imagine them anymore.