Indigo Lake

by Jodi Thomas

  Dakota glared at the outline of the short old woman wrapped in an army-green blanket. Grandmother might be three feet away, but sometimes it felt like she was a hundred years in the past. She never talked in facts, but always danced around every question. “You heard the son of Henry Hamilton come to the house. Henry is dead. His son owns the land now.”

  “I smelled the new Hamilton before I saw him. Knew he was from the line long thought dead even though he’d never stepped foot on their land before yesterday. He has the build of his father and grandfather. I fear he’s wild and reckless.”

  “Maria told you he was here, didn’t she? Plus, you probably saw his bike.” Grandmother always acted like she had a crystal ball tucked away somewhere beneath her layers of clothes. “I knew she would. Maria always tells you everything.”

  Grandmother puffed up as if insulted. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood perfectly still as if waiting for someone to take her picture.

  Dakota added, “Did she also tell you that he’s only here to sell the place? He’s not staying. He told me he was a traveler who wanted no roots.”

  Grandmother spit on the ground. The old woman’s voice was as cold as icicles on tin. “That’s the only reason he’s alive. He wasn’t born here. He’s leaving. A man who has no roots cannot hear his own heart beating.”

  “Stop talking like we live in the 1880s, Grandmother, or the sheriff will come lock you up.” Dakota decided that might not be too bad an idea. Her grandmother got five degrees crazier every year, but then again, sanity wasn’t a strong family trait.

  Her mother used to say that she grew up with two uncles who came home from the Second World War with their brains scrambled. One thought he was dating the moon. He’d go out every bright night and talk to it. The other liked to sleep on the warm county road after dark like a rattlesnake might. One night he got pancaked by a bread truck that took a wrong turn. According to Grandmother, no one wanted to write “Killed by a bread truck” on his headstone, so they wrote, “Died in his sleep.”

  Dakota turned back to the lake. “Maybe it’s just Hamilton moving around over there. It’s safer to sleep in the shadow of the trees than in that old house. He may have lost his flashlight, or maybe the batteries are dead.”

  The old woman shook her head. “What moves there carries death in his pocket. I’ve watched him for a week now. He hides in the light and only works his evil at night. Some nights, long after midnight, he walks to the road and a black car picks him up. The same car brings him back to hunt in darkness again.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Not to us, but to evil it might.”

  Dakota put her arm around her grandmother. “I love you, Shichu. How about we forget about evil and go inside for some cobbler? Maria made her best ever tonight.”

  The old woman nodded. “Does it come with beer and bananas on top?”

  “That it does. Why not?”

  They ate their late-night dessert, and then, when the tiny old woman fell asleep on the couch, Dakota covered her grandmother with a colorful blanket. When she kissed her wrinkled forehead, Dakota decided most people live in their own reality—Grandmother’s was just more imaginative than most.

  The hours of night seemed endless. Thoughts drifted through Dakota’s mind like the shadow that had moved across Hamilton land. She told herself she didn’t care where Blade was, but still she worried about him. Maybe someone truly didn’t want him on his own land. The Davis women might joke about killing him, but what if his land was being used for something illegal? She’d heard of abandoned farmhouses being turned into meth labs or used as stopover points for human trafficking.

  As the night aged, darker thoughts circled in her mind. What if Blade was on the land and he wasn’t alone? Drug dealers or men hiding out from the law could have already killed him. Or what if he’d been moving in the house after dark and fallen over something? He could be slowly bleeding out across the lake while she cuddled into her warm bed.

  Finally, she drifted into dreams. In the point between dreams and reality, she thought she felt Blade take her hand, and she slowed her breathing and relaxed into sleep.

  As sunlight crawled across the tile floor of her bedroom, she awoke to full daylight.

  Eight o’clock! She never slept so late and today was the day she had to take Maria into town to put up her jams and jellies at the grocery store. Today, of all days, she needed an early start. She had to load the truck, then drop Maria off at the grocery, walk to her office, work, then wait for a call to go back and get her sister.

  Dakota bolted from the bed and ran for the shower, tugging at her tight T-shirt as she ran.

  A moment before she reached the bathroom door, she heard Maria say something from the kitchen, but Dakota’s mind was still too sleepy to understand.

  Opening the door to a warm, foggy world, she blinded herself with the T-shirt that refused to slip over her shoulders.

  Her angry words were barely out before she slammed into a very warm, very hard body.

  The impact shocked her fully awake and she tugged the shirt down enough to see Hamilton staring at her. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, spots of shaving cream on his face and a slow smile spreading over his lips.

  The fog made it seem he’d stepped out of a dream and was not in the real world, in her bathroom, almost in the buff.

  “Morning,” he said in a low voice. Then, as if he’d done it every morning for years, he leaned down and kissed her soundly.

  She tugged the now damp shirt down over her breasts, praying he hadn’t noticed her body. Fat chance.

  She felt herself melting against his warmth and gave in to the kiss. This was better than any dream she could have imagined.

  His hands circled her waist and lifted her up on the counter so they were at eye level. Then, his fingers moved to her back, pulling her so close against him she could feel him breathe.

  She could taste the mint from his toothpaste and the hint of soap on his lip. Drops of water from his wet hair dripped onto her cheek as his hands moved over her body. She spread her fingers along his chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to push away. The feel of his warm skin was heaven to touch.

  Just a moment more, she told herself. Just for a memory.

  Maria’s voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. “Breakfast is about ready. Grandmother is joining us.”

  Blade broke the kiss as he dug his hands into Dakota’s hair. “I’m looking at what I want for breakfast,” he whispered. His gray eyes were dark now, fiery with need.

  Dakota couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even breathe.

  He closed his fingers into the tangle of her mane. “I knew your hair would be wild like this.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I love seeing sleep still in those beautiful eyes instead of daggers usually aimed right at me.” He drew her closer, letting her feel each word on her lips. “You fascinate me. It’s like you crawled into my brain when I wasn’t looking and now every other thought is wondering about you.”

  With his fists still full of her hair, he kissed her again and she realized all the other kisses she’d had before were nothing compared to this one. Her breath came faster as his chest pressed against hers and the warmth of his body set her on fire. Steam from the shower filled the room, making it seem for a moment that there was no world outside his arms.

  Maria’s call came again. “Breakfast!”

  Dakota closed her eyes, mentally pushing away the best moment she’d ever had as she whispered, “Grandmother is here.”

  “So?” he said, nibbling on her throat.

  She leaned away, stumbled off the counter, and headed toward the door, feeling like she was fighting her needs and him at the same time. “Get dressed.” Her voice shook slightly. “Fully dressed before you step out of this room. She’s going
to explode when she sees you, so try to get mentally prepared.”

  He caught her hand before she reached for the knob. “First, tell me you’re okay with what just happened between us, because you blew my mind.”

  She met his eyes. “I liked it, but don’t look at me that way when you meet Grandmother. In fact, don’t look at me at all. Don’t even speak to me.”

  He stared at her a moment as if trying to figure out if this was all a game. “All right, I’ll play along, but you have to kiss me goodbye first.”

  She didn’t have time to argue. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

  He didn’t move but his words reached her. “I’ll play whatever game you Davis women are playing, but tonight we play my game.”

  “Not a chance,” she said, as she opened the door and disappeared before he could answer.

  Dakota glanced toward the kitchen. Thankfully, Grandmother wasn’t on the bar stool. She must be loading the jars.

  Dakota ran down the hallway and jerked on some clothes, not caring if they matched. What did it matter? She’d just ordered the only man who’d ever really looked at her not to look at her at all.

  She smiled as she combed her wild hair into a knot at the base of her skull. Blade had said he loved her hair. Closing her eyes, she remembered how his gray eyes seemed to drink her in. The moment they’d shared had affected him as deeply as it had her.

  She stared into the mirror, trying to see if she’d changed. She’d always thought of herself as passably pretty, but never a woman a man would really desire. Not the way Blade had. Like he couldn’t keep his hands, or mouth, off her.

  Somehow knowing that one man, even if he was a Hamilton, looked at her that way made her feel different inside.

  Of course what was between them wouldn’t go any further, but it had been exciting for a moment.

  When Dakota walked into the kitchen, Maria was the only one there. She was filling four plates and humming to herself.

  “What happened to Grandmother and Hamilton?” An answer of “a fight to the death” wouldn’t have surprised her.

  “He’s helping her load the truck. I made more jams than I usually do this week. Hope Wes will be able to take the extra.”

  “Wes is so nice he’ll buy whatever you bring, Maria.”

  “He’s a good businessman. Stocks my jars close to the front for every person passing through to take home as a souvenir.”

  Dakota took the middle bar stool. “Then the next time they pass through, they stop and buy double. But, it’s not his business sense, it’s your product that keeps them coming back.”

  “Wouldn’t they be surprised to know that the top graduate from the best culinary arts school in Dallas makes their jams?” Maria grinned.

  Dakota agreed. Maria didn’t know that the store owner always stood guard when she was stocking the shelves he’d built to fit her jars exactly. He’d also ordered all his employees to stay out of the way and keep the walk between the side door and her shelves clean. Maria had a guardian angel and she didn’t even know it.

  “Lately it seems longer and longer before you call me to come get you,” Dakota teased.

  Maria blushed. “Wes and I have kind of got into a habit of having a cup of coffee after I finish stocking.”

  Dakota thought of asking what two shy people talk about, but she could guess. Probably the weather.

  Grandmother stomped her way into the kitchen and sat down on the first stool she came to. She wore the same men’s trousers and flannel shirt she’d had on last night. Her philosophy of dress was simple: unless you had a bad spill or an unfortunate accident, anything you put on should last at least three days and nights. Why bother with changing into pajamas that you’ll just change out of at dawn?

  Shichu rattled her coffee cup like she thought she was at a café. “I’m so hungry I could eat backward and still get full,” she announced.

  Maria and Dakota had long ago given up hope on understanding most of the old woman’s sayings. Maria just slid her a plate of eggs while Dakota filled up her coffee mug.

  “Thought I’d have that Hamilton finish loading. He might as well make himself useful if he’s only going to be here two weeks.”

  Both girls let out a long-held breath. Blade wasn’t lying spread-eagle in the red ant bed.

  Maria whispered, “You’re not going to kill him, Grandmother?”

  “I told him I’d give serious thought to letting him live. If I change my mind, he’ll be the first to know.”

  Hamilton came in, dusting hay off his leather jacket.

  He didn’t belong here, she thought. Leather jacket, biker boots, collarless shirt, and an ugly green sweater.

  He took the stool on the other side of Dakota but didn’t even look at her. “Thanks, Maria, for letting me use your shower and for the offer for breakfast. I spent last night in jail.”

  “Figures,” Grandmother grumbled. “Out thieving and murdering, were you, Hamilton?”

  “No,” Maria laughed, as if she didn’t think the comment was serious. “He’s watching over a prisoner, Grandmother.”

  “So he says.” Grandmother shoveled a helping of eggs into her almost toothless mouth. “Comes on our land asking favors and the next thing you know he’ll be stealing cattle.”

  “We don’t have any cattle, Shichu,” both girls said at once. “And Patience would never go with him.”

  Grandmother shrugged. “If you two hadn’t told him we didn’t have a herd, he might have spent a few days looking. Keep the man occupied.”

  Everyone but the old woman laughed. Blade kept his eyes on Maria as she moved her plate to exactly the right place and ate her meal so gracefully no one would ever know she was blind.

  He also played with Dakota’s knee under the table, which she intended to object to later.

  As they finished, Blade fell into the routine of the Davis house. He scraped his scraps into the chicken feed bucket and put his plate in the sink. Grandmother gathered up the bucket for her chickens and a half loaf of bread Maria had wrapped for her. With no goodbye, she walked out the back door, mumbling something about needing to sharpen her knives.

  Maria grabbed her coat. “I’m ready, Mr. Hamilton.”

  “I’ll get my briefcase.” Dakota jumped into action. She’d forgotten how late they were.

  Maria moved toward the door, barely brushing the bar for direction. “Don’t hurry, Dakota. We loaded my jars in his truck. Blade is off this morning and said he’d take me in.”

  “But he doesn’t know—”

  “I’ll tell him. I know the way.”

  Dakota knew better than to question Maria’s judgment. From the time she was able to walk after the accident, she insisted on managing for herself. She would not be handicapped. She set rules and everyone followed them. Nothing in her usual paths. Nothing out of place in her kitchen. No one tried to help her unless she asked for it.

  “Great. I could use the extra time.” Dakota looked at Hamilton for the first time.

  He gave a slight nod as if to say he had this, but his words were casual, “I’ll see you in town later.”

  “No need. When Maria calls for a ride back, I might just come home. I could use a nap. Haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

  “I might have a few deliveries to pick up at your office. Any objection to me dropping by?”

  “No. If I’m not there, just break in and make yourself at home.”

  He brushed her slightly as he passed and walked onto the porch.

  Dakota stood at the door and watched as Maria moved down the porch steps.

  “Three feet straight ahead,” Hamilton said. “Raise your left hand and you’re at the truck bed.”

  Maria followed his directions then moved her hand gently along the open truck bed, her fin
gers barely brushing the straw between the boxes. She opened the passenger door and climbed in with a jump.

  Hamilton looked back at Dakota. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

  Dakota smiled. “She is.”

  Maria Davis might be blind, but Dakota had no doubt that she knew her way through life far better than her little sister ever would.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE SUN WAS high over the town, sparkling off the tin roof of the hardware store and the windshields of passing cars, as if teasing everyone that spring had arrived in February.

  But it felt like dark winter in Lauren Brigman’s heart as she walked over to her father’s office.

  When she’d been little, she used to sit on the steps of the county offices and count the cars. Crossroads, Texas, sat on a big X of two highways. East-west. North-south. All those years ago she’d sworn she’d travel every road when she grew up. But she hadn’t. She seemed to be one of those people who never learned to pack.

  As she walked into the sheriff’s office, Lauren realized there was nowhere she’d rather be than this town. She was right on the X, the crossroads, the center of the world.

  Pop looked up from his cluttered desk. To her, he’d always be handsome in his pressed uniform. He was one of the true heroes in life. There might be a touch of gray at his temples now and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, but neither tarnished him. She’d often wondered, when she was a kid, how her mother could have left such a man. Correction, how she could have left them. Margaret Brigman had abandoned both husband and daughter for her career goals in Dallas.

  Lauren had been five then and thought everything had to make sense. Her pop might not have been able to explain what was happening, but he was there to go through it with her.

  Life still didn’t make sense, but two things were constant. Her father loved her, and he never stopped asking her questions. “Morning, darlin’,” he said with a smile. “You have breakfast yet? If you’re here as the press, turn around and walk right back out. If you’re hungry, there are doughnuts in the box.”

  Lauren sat on the only clean corner of his desk. “Pop. The press has a right to know what’s going on.”