by Diana Palmer
The cup jerked, and hot tea sloshed over his hand. He grabbed a napkin and mopped it up. “What sorrow?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral. Too many emotions were being stirred up nowadays. He didn’t need an old woman that half the county thought was batty telling him about his emotions.
“There’s an emptiness in your soul,” she murmured, partially closing her eyes. A cat jumped into her lap, and she stroked it absently. “It can be filled. But the filling will be painful, and the cost high.”
The chill shot right down into his backbone. “I like the emptiness,” he said in a low growl, feeling like a cornered wolf. “Life is easier that way.”
“None of the pain?”
“That’s right,” he agreed harshly.
“But none of the joy,” the wise woman reminded him gently. “Grab the joy while it’s available. I let it go. In the end, I had only a month with the man I loved.”
Judd looked at the old woman, startled. He’d never really thought of her being in love.
She smiled sadly. “Yes, even I was once in love. I’d never told another person until recently, and now I’ve told two.”
“Tracy,” he said, knowing at once who the other person had been. “There’s something special between the two of you. Her mother commented on it once. She said she felt almost jealous of the bond you had with her daughter.”
Winona merely nodded her head and rocked quietly back and forth, stroking the cat, whose purr filled the silence.
He sighed, then stood. “I’m going to Billings to pick up some stolen goods that have been recovered. Would you like to ride along?” He glanced around the neat trailer. “Or do you need to clean house, too?”
She laughed in delight at his irony. “So she turned you down. Don’t be discouraged. Keep an eye on her. Twice I’ve sensed danger near her. Stay close.”
“I will,” he heard himself solemnly promise.
Later, driving back to Whitehorn from Billings, the crate of stolen guns in the back seat, he thought of his conversation with the psychic. God, he’d sounded as if he’d taken an oath to find the Holy Grail.
His feelings toward Tracy were the result of two things. One, since he was sheriff of the county, naturally he felt protective toward her. Two, there was a lingering passion between them.
Well, hell, nice to know some things in life never changed. Although desire wasn’t one of the things he’d have voted for, given a choice.
After leaving the stolen loot with the officer in charge of the evidence storage room in the basement of the police station, he headed for the fairgrounds five miles south of town.
He found Tracy at the calf pens, laughing while she tried to pet a calf that was trying to suck her fingers. Rafe Rawlings stood beside her, one hand at her waist as she bent over the low fence.
White heat shot through Judd, followed by a coldness that left his mind crystal clear. He walked forward.
Tracy straightened up and glanced around, feeling suddenly uneasy. Her eyes met a dark and dangerous gaze.
“Hello, Judd,” she said, her voice fairly steady.
“Lo, the lawman returneth,” Rafe drawled, earning him a sardonic smile from the sheriff.
“In the flesh,” Judd returned with cool nonchalance.
Tracy gave each man a warning frown. She was not going to be a bone fought over by two dogs…or cops, in this case. She didn’t understand why men had to be so territorial in the first place.
She had decided that was the root of the earlier jealousy—if it had been jealousy she’d seen in Judd at her house. Anyway, she was going to choose her own companions.
Rafe had been asking her a million questions about forensic techniques and about the bones she was examining. She’d promised to let him see them and to explain some of the things she looked for when she was doing an investigation. As a local policeman, he was naturally curious about murder in his backyard, so to speak.
Judd, of course, thought the case should be his. It galled him that the reservation was in the county, but out of his jurisdiction. Tough. He would have to accept her authority just as the tribal council had had to.
“I’d like to see the rabbits now. The ribbons were supposed to be posted on them by noon,” she said brightly.
The two men fell into step with her. They admired the rabbits, the pigeons, chickens, turkeys and ducks. She wandered over to the ring, where prize breeding stock was being judged.
She noticed Judd checking the security at the fair. Several deputies were in evidence. Their presence would do a lot toward ensuring a peaceful gathering. She saw him nod to each lawman they met. Most of them returned his greeting with a casual salute.
The two men were still with her when she spied Winona in the bleachers watching the judging. “Hello. I didn’t expect to see you until tonight,” she said, sitting by the older woman.
Rafe slid onto the bench beside her before Judd got a chance to. Judd’s lips tightened fractionally, then he sat down in front of Tracy on the next bench and twisted around to talk to the other three.
“I got the honey collected, put in jars and labeled, so I decided to come in. I entered a pie in the fall-fruit-baking category—pumpkin and honey with wild nuts.”
“My favorite,” Judd muttered. “And you didn’t even offer me a piece when I was out there.”
“I didn’t make it until later. Besides, I couldn’t take a piece out of it and then put it in the contest.” She gave him a grin that drew crinkles around her eyes in a merry fashion. She looked like an elf with her sun-browned face and plump figure.
“I wonder if the judges will leave any after they taste it,” he grumbled.
“Leftovers go to the senior-citizen centers,” Rafe put in.
“I made one to give to Tracy,” Winona said with an innocent smile. “Maybe, if you’re real nice, she’ll give you some of it.”
Judd glanced at Tracy. She saw him hesitate. “I’ll buy that pizza you promised Winona for supper,” he declared, “if you’ll serve the pie for dessert.”
“All right,” she agreed.
“Great,” Rafe said, counting himself in. “I’ll get the ice cream to go on the pie.”
Tracy choked back laughter at the look Judd gave the young policeman. Winona had no such compulsions. She cackled aloud.
After a second, Judd grinned and dodged a mock punch from Rafe, who was also laughing.
Sterling and Jessica McCallum joined them and demanded to know what the joke was.
“Two dogs and one bone,” Winona told them.
Jessica glanced at the two men, then at Tracy. She grinned in delight and plopped down by Judd. “Looks like an even number of dogs and bones to me,” she announced, clearly putting the men in the dog category.
Her husband groaned and demanded to know how much of this stuff a man was supposed to take. That earned him a poke in the side from his wife.
The day ended with all of them going to the pizza place for dinner, then trooping back to Tracy’s cottage for pie and ice cream. Jennifer played with several plastic bowls and a wooden spoon that Tracy gave her. After eating some ice cream, she went to sleep on the sofa.
The adults took their coffee out on the porch afterward and watched the sky darken from twilight into night. Rafe managed to stay at her side most of the time, which paired Judd with Winona.
Tracy felt a rush of pride as he escorted the older woman, who had to be in her late seventies, with all the gallantry of a knight of old guarding a princess.
After everyone left, she put the dishes in the dishwasher, then changed into her sleep set of satin tap pants and matching green top. She fastened a floral robe over it.
A knock at the back door startled her.
“Judd,” she murmured, seeing his stern face beyond the small glass panes across the top of the door. She unlocked the dead bolt and let him in. “I didn’t hear your truck. Did you forget something?”
“No.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “I walked over. There was
something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yes?”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Winona sensed you were in danger?”
She stared at him in total surprise. “It wasn’t a definite thing,” she finally explained. “I mean, it was probably vibes she was getting from the bones.”
Judd shook his head. “It’s you. I talked to her earlier today. She said you were in danger.”
“Did she see something?” While Tracy heeded the wise woman’s visions, she wasn’t sure about feelings. They could be deceptive. Once she’d thought Judd loved her more than anything, but since that time, she’d learned to distrust turbulent emotions.
“No,” he admitted.
“Well, then…”
She stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, not sure what to say. Nervous flutters chased through her stomach at his silent stance. She tightened the tasseled belt of the robe.
He took a step toward her. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides while his eyes devoured her.
She felt his gaze move over her, burning into every inch. A hot tide of longing ran through her. She might not trust her feelings, but she couldn’t deny them. She still wanted him with all the wild yearning of long ago.
He must have seen it in her eyes. “Trace,” he murmured.
For once he looked as uncertain as she felt. He took another step toward her. She witnessed his struggle with the force that had drawn them together from the first moment they’d met.
Bewilderment joined the other emotions that roiled in her. She didn’t understand it—this irresistible magic that leapt into being whenever they met. She didn’t want it.
She fought it and knew he was doing the same.
“No,” she whispered, dredging up every ounce of willpower. “It’s not…we can’t.”
The planes of his face abruptly seemed harsher, the bones pressing against his skin as if demanding to escape. “I know,” he said with a bitter sigh. “Oh, God, I know.”
He pivoted and crossed to the door in two long strides. She clutched the lapels of her robe, stifling the cry that rose in her, ignoring the part that wanted to ask him to stay.
He faced her, all iron control now. The tough sheriff in a tough situation. “You might be in charge of the case, but I’m still sheriff of this county. If your life is in danger, I’m going to do my damnedest to see that you aren’t hurt…no matter what.”
He went out, then stood on the other side of the door. When she didn’t move, he rattled the knob impatiently. She rushed forward and locked the door. He nodded, then headed off into the dark, cutting through the woods in the moonlight.
Tracy turned out the inside lights, made sure the porch lights were on, then went to bed. She lay there a long time, worrying about the situation.
The pressure was building between them. When it got too great, what would happen?
Anxiety swept over her. She wanted to leave. She wanted to solve the case and get out of there…before it was too late.
Six
The Sunday paper arrived with a thud on the front porch. Tracy pushed her hair back and peered at the clock. Barely past seven. She groaned, tossed the covers off and headed for the bathroom. A shower would wake her up.
Later, after eating a breakfast of cereal and banana, she read the news from beginning to end. She folded the paper and stacked it neatly in the middle of the table.
She sighed. The sound seemed to echo through the empty house. Honestly, she never thought she’d see the day she missed the friendly drip-drip of a faucet!
Shoving back the chair, she stood and walked out on the front porch. It was almost ten. Down the street, she saw a family come out of their house and get in their car. The parents and two little girls were dressed in their Sunday clothes. Probably on their way to Sunday school, she thought.
She watched them until the car disappeared down the lane. They’d looked so happy. With a soft gasp, she realized she was envious of their good fortune.
Stepping off the porch, she strolled around the yard, admiring the roses and daisies. Finally, the silence was more than she could take. She paused in her restless pacing and looked down the lane toward the south.
There was a place she’d been avoiding. She knew she’d have to go there before she left town. The psychologist had told her she had to face the past in order to get on with her life.
All right, she resolved, gathering her courage. She would.
Going inside, she clipped on her purse, rubbed sunscreen into her face and arms, donned a hat and started out.
She walked south along Pale Bluff Lane until she came to Willow Brook Road. She crossed the road and headed west until she reached a small chapel, which faced the street. The Whitehorn cemetery surrounded the natural-stone building.
Stopping, Tracy clasped the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the rolling acres and let her gaze roam from the stained-glass windows of the chapel to the delicate carving of twin angels set on the support columns at the entrance gate.
Past the entrance, benches were placed under shade trees in the cultivated lawn, and row after row of headstones marched over the rolling meadow.
Her hands trembled, but she opened the gate and went in. She walked down the path paved with river gravel, the sound of her steps carried away on the warm sigh of the breeze.
At last, in the newer section, she came to a site marked with four polished-granite columns at the corners. Inside the area, a small rectangle was squared off with granite posts set almost flush to the ground.
She sat on one of the taller columns and stared off at the mountains to the west. Part of a Bible verse she’d learned as a child came to her. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills.
Sometimes the sight of mountains and far vistas offered comfort to her soul, but not today.
She swallowed hard, then looked at the low granite stone set at the head of the small rectangle and read the inscription.
Thaddeus Roper Hensley. Beloved Son.
The breeze sighed through the trees, and for a second she thought she heard his laughter, radiant with the delight he’d found in life, in the shear joy of living. She listened intently.
The crunch of gravel was the only sound that came to her. She pivoted on the narrow seat.
Judd stood on the path. He held a pot of golden-eyed daises in his hand. He walked forward slowly as if he thought she might bolt if he came too close.
“I sometimes plant flowers,” he said.
Her throat closed. She nodded and watched as he pulled a trowel from the back pocket of his jeans and planted a bright clump of flowers at each side of the headstone.
When he finished, he sat cross-legged on the grass near her feet and pulled a few tiny weeds from the grave.
“I wondered if you’d come.” He looked at her then.
She saw the darkness in the depths of his eyes and knew it came from the soul. She lifted a hand, instinctively needing to soothe the pain with a caress. She let it fall back into her lap.
“I had to.” She breathed deeply, carefully, holding on to a control that seemed intent on slipping if she didn’t watch it. The need to weep rose in her until it became an ache.
He nodded.
“I still miss him,” she heard herself confess, although she hadn’t meant to mention it at all. “His laughter. His curiosity and endless questions. His love of all living things. I miss him. It’s like…a cold and lonely place inside.”
The tendons stood out in Judd’s neck. She knew he didn’t like to talk about it, but she couldn’t seem to stop. The words, like the tears, pressed forward.
“I miss him, and…I’m angry with him.” She clenched her hands together. “I’m angry with him for going off into the woods. He knew he wasn’t allowed to go off like that by himself. I want him to come home with that sheepish look he got when he knew he was in trouble. I want to send him to bed without his supper. I want to ground him for a month—”
Judd stood abruptly, his fist
s clenched at his sides, his face as tight-looking as it had been the day before.
She stood, too.
He looked at her so long she began to feel they would turn to stone and stand there forever, locked together in mutual despair, yet apart, always apart.
“Trace,” he said hoarsely. He made a movement with his hand, as if he wanted to reach for her, then dropped it.
The gulf of time and unshared grief stretched between them. A quiver of need fell into the darkness inside her like a stone into an abyss. She longed for warmth, for light in her soul.
Once she’d needed him, but he’d walked away. If he walked away now, she’d never forgive him….
No, she had no right to think that. Everything was over between them. They were strangers now, although they’d once created a child together.
She stared at the distant hills and swallowed against the ache inside. “I miss him,” she whispered. “Our little boy. I miss him.” She fought the darkness, but it closed over her.
Judd felt the blackness rise from the pit inside him. He’d thought the emptiness was safe, but that had been a delusion. He knew that now. The pain had been there all along, waiting for a chance to escape and consume him again.
He wanted to leave, to walk away and not have to think about the past. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He was going to have to face her grief, and perhaps, in facing hers, he’d have to face his, too. The cold and lonely place she spoke of he knew lay at the bottom of the pit. It was where the pain dwelt.
Once, she’d asked him to tell her how to stop hurting, and he’d had no answer. He still didn’t.
Not knowing how to comfort her, he’d left her to deal with the terrible grief on her own. Perhaps that had been the end of their marriage, not later, when she’d turned from his touch in loathing, as he’d thought. This time, he knew he couldn’t leave.
She put her hands over her face. He realized she was weeping, although she made no sound. He lifted a hand, let it drop. He felt helpless in the face of her anguish.