by Nikki Soarde
Luke’s eyes roamed over the world at his feet. The lights flickered and twinkled, as magical and untouchable as the stars. The people were a seething mass of humanity, but the crowds weren’t threatening. Oddly, it was a comfort, and for the first time since leaving the hospital he felt like a part of the human race again. He almost felt like he belonged here, like he wasn’t a stranger.
He could see the glow of the lights from the lip of the Saddledome where the rodeo events were still going on, and he heard a raucous cheer rise up at some unseen victory. Some cowboy had conquered a steed or downed a steer, and his fans were cheering him on, screaming and shouting, losing their inhibitions in the raw pleasure of sharing a moment of human triumph. Luke could identify with that. Challenges and trials had come to be a part of his daily routine. With a little help, most of those had turned into triumphs.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Marnie softly.
He looked her squarely in the eye and replied, “The most beautiful thing in the world.”
He was pleased to see her blush, but the next moment her discomfort was forgotten as the wheel screeched to life and began to pick up speed.
“Luke!” squealed Tiffany. “I’m gonna fall.”
He squeezed her tighter. “Not if I can help it.”
She buried her face in his chest, but with a little coaxing and a firm arm around her, she was persuaded to open her eyes and watch the world whoosh by. The wind whipped at their hair and whistled by their ears. The murmur of the crowd and the music of the midway waxed and waned as they plummeted toward earth and then were swept away again, surging toward the stars and the moon and infinity.
By the time the ride began to slow, her grip had loosened and her lips had actually managed to twitch into a smile. When it was their turn to get off she complained that she didn’t want to go yet. She wanted to do it again. Now.
Luke and Marnie laughed and dragged her away with promises of hot dogs and cotton candy. As they approached the concession stand Luke felt Marnie’s hand slip around his waist and she pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “How come you’re so good with kids?”
He shrugged. “They can spot phonies a mile away, and they know I’m the real thing. I’m one of them.”
“You got that right. You’re just a great big kid at heart.” Her smile settled over him like a warm blanket.
The line-up at the booth was bustling and the crowd thick, but their turn at the counter came quickly. Marnie paid and Luke let go of Tiffany’s hand to take the hot dogs and drinks and reach for the condiments. It couldn’t have taken him more than a minute to slather on the mustard, relish and ketchup and pop the straw into the cups, but when he turned to hand Tiffany her treat…
She wasn’t there.
He felt Marnie brush against him and ask for her drink, but he barely heard her.
He scanned the crowd for a dark crown of wavy brown hair, but suddenly the masses that had seemed so inviting and friendly just a few moments earlier had become a writhing, twisting wall of bodies that his gaze couldn’t seem to penetrate.
“Luke?” Marnie registered alarm. “Where’s Tiffany?”
“I don’t know. She was here a second ago. I barely let go, and now I can’t find her.” He was fighting panic. It was the same sense of uncontrolled anguish he had experienced those first days in the hospital; and, just like before, it threatened to overwhelm him. He gripped Marnie’s hand and dragged her into the crowd, abandoning their food and drinks and screaming Tiffany’s name above the melee.
After a couple of minutes of fruitless searching, Marnie pulled him around sharply. “You keep looking. I’m going to go to the lost-and-found tent, or whatever you call it. These things always have a place where people take lost children.”
Luke swallowed a lump in his throat that felt about the size of a candy apple. “All right. I got it.” His eyes were already darting over the crowd again.
“Luke!” Her tone was intense and compelled him to look at her. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”
He nodded. “Okay, okay. Just go.”
“If she’s not there I’ll come back here and help you look.”
He barely heard her as he forged ahead, calling for the girl and plowing through people like they were only so much wheat.
Time slowed to a crawl, and he could hear the blood rushing through his ears as he moved. Somebody laughed, and he wanted to scream that they had no business being happy and carefree when a little girl was missing.
At last he broke out of a particularly dense clutch of bodies and stopped to catch his breath. That was when he saw them.
A tearful Tiffany was talking to a young man who was kneeling in front of her, grasping her hand and looking sympathetic and solicitous. The young cowboy glanced over in Luke’s direction, his gaze perusing the crowd before resting back on Tiffany.
For reasons that eluded him Luke remained riveted to the spot. He watched the events unfold as if observing them through a glass wall—as if he could have no effect on the outcome. He felt invisible. He felt powerless. He felt like he’d seen it all before.
But when the man stood up and moved to scoop Tiffany up into his arms, the feeling of impotence was replaced by a surge of rage that flooded through him, propelled him forward and seemed to take complete control of his body.
“Put her down!” he said with a soft urgency when he reached the pair.
The man looked startled but made no move to relinquish his prize. “Pardon? Are you—”
“I said put her down, you son of a bitch!” Luke heard the words but had no idea where they were coming from. He only knew that this man was scum and he had to be stopped.
“Hey! I was just trying to help. She was crying and—”
Luke tried to calm his breathing as he reached out to wrap an arm around Tiffany. He ripped her from the other man’s grasp.
She squealed at the sudden movement, and that seemed to concern her wannabe rescuer. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re hurting her.” He wanted Luke to believe he was concerned for her welfare, but Luke could see through the charade. He knew that game all too well.
“Luke?” He heard Marnie behind him and immediately handed off the squalling child.
He advanced on the younger man. “You slimebags are all the same.”
“Huh?” He took a step back in the face of Luke’s mysterious wrath.
Luke poked him in the chest. “What did you think? Did you think I’d stand by and let you cart her off?”
“I was just taking her to—”
“Don’t you think I know your kind? You’re a thief. You steal their innocence and use it for your own pleasure. You exploit and abuse and—”
“You’re crazy!” He stumbled over a tent peg but managed to right himself.
Luke was vaguely aware of Marnie calling his name but he could no more stop himself than he could have stopped a rampaging bull.
“I’m sick of it. Sick of it. And I’m sick of you.”
The younger man had come up against a tent and had apparently decided it was time to take a stand. “If you don’t back off I’m calling the cops.”
Luke couldn’t fathom the rage that was in the process of swallowing him up, and he couldn’t seem to stop the swell of anger that balled his hand into a fist and sent it flying toward the other man’s face. He was expecting to see an explosion of blood as his knuckles crashed into teeth and cartilage and bone. He was looking forward to the warmth of that man’s body fluid on his skin. He anticipated the satisfaction of seeing justice done. But his fist never got there.
Instead, the breath was knocked out of him as a something plowed into his gut, knocking him back several feet and forcing him to scramble to remain upright.
He struggled to get back to his target, but Marnie’s shoulder didn’t relent. It rammed into him again, and at last her yelling registered in his fury-fogged brain.
“Luke!” She was shaking him now, and he looked down at her, feelin
g disoriented and slightly nauseous. “What the hell were you doing? He was trying to help her, for God’s sake.”
He stared at her and tried to quell the heaving of his stomach. Senseless, disturbing images flitted through his mind. He closed his eyes in an effort to block them out, but they only became more vivid against the dark backdrop of his eyelids. He groaned, “I think—”
“What?” Marnie’s voice was high and shrill with anger and confusion. “What in God’s name could you have been thinking?”
He sank to his knees and stared at the pointy toes of her cowboy boots, trying to focus on that and allow the images to dwindle. “I need to go home now.”
She knelt in front of him and cupped his face in her hands. “What happened, Luke? What’s wrong?”
He shook his head—and regretted it as his brain rattled around inside his skull. He was just becoming aware of the dull throbbing that had set in behind his eyes and at the back of his neck. It was going to get worse. It was going to get much worse. “Please,” he whispered, his voice suddenly desperate and pleading. “I just want to go home.”
* * * * *
Marnie pulled the door closed and allowed the latch to click softly behind her. Her hand was still resting on the knob when she heard a tiny voice.
“Is he okay?”
Marnie turned to find Tiffany standing in the doorway to her little room. Her pink nightgown skimmed her toes and the ruffle tickled her chin. Bare, pale arms hugged a stuffed bunny to her chest. She looked as fragile and innocent as a china doll. Except for the very adult concern in her eyes. “I think he’ll be better in the morning. Right now his head is hurting him…” She swallowed against a lump that had been struggling to grow in her throat ever since the incident at the park. “It’s hurting a lot. But his medicine should start working soon.”
“Can I go see him? Maybe if I kiss it better?”
Marnie pressed her fingers against her lips to try and hold herself together.
“He likes that—when I kiss it better.”
“I know. I know he does, honey. But not right now, okay? He needs to sleep.”
She didn’t seem convinced. Tiny toes curled into the carpet as if she were trying to root herself to that spot until Marnie gave in to her wishes. “He was just worried about me, you know. He wasn’t trying to be mean.”
“I know.” Marnie finally willed her feet into action and stepped over to rest a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder. “I’m not mad at him. Really. He’s just very tired.”
Little fists dug into tired eyes. “He wouldn’t talk to me on the way home.”
“He wasn’t mad at you either. He was just feeling all mixed up and it was hard for him to talk.” She gently guided the girl back toward her bed with the pearly-white duvet. “It’s time for you to get some sleep now. You had a busy night, and tomorrow we have dinner with Grandma and your mom and dad.”
“Is Luke coming?” she asked as she crawled up onto the mattress and snuggled down between the sheets.
“Yes,” said Marnie, tucking the sheets in tight and stroking a satiny cheek. “He’ll be there.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
Stunned into silence, Marnie’s brain worked frantically to come up with a response to that little missile that had hit her squarely between the eyes. At last she came up with an answer that was honest, and that she hoped would satisfy her niece’s well-intentioned curiosity. “I don’t know, honey. I really don’t know.” She leaned over and pressed her lips to Tiffany’s forehead before heading for the door. She glanced back to see drooping eyelids. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered and then stepped out into the hall. She left the door ajar to allow light from the hall to seep into the room, and in case Tiffany called out for her in the night.
Or maybe she would call out for Luke.
Marnie smiled as she trudged down the stairs and headed for the kitchen and a glass of Chardonnay she had decided she deserved.
Maybe Luke was right. Maybe he had an edge. Maybe Tiffany had been able to sense his sincerity, and had known instinctively that, at some level at least, they shared a common perspective on the world. Wasn’t that what continued to charm Marnie? She, too, indulged in the pleasure he took from things—things to which she had become jaded, things that she barely saw anymore. The joy in his eyes at a new discovery, the earnestness when he spoke about things he cared about—these were things that wrapped around her heart and squeezed until she wanted to cry.
She had almost given herself away that night. She had almost confessed to something she didn’t think he was ready to hear. Or was she not ready to face it herself? He still wore that wedding band, and its presence was a nagging reminder that she had no business assuming he would be part of her life indefinitely. There were people who cared about him somewhere. And considering the kind of person that he was they would very likely want him back.
She poured the wine and sipped it slowly as she studied the stars outside her window and contemplated the man upstairs. His actions that night had disturbed him more than anyone. He refused to talk about it but it was obvious to Marnie that his attack had not been aimed at the man who was trying to get Tiffany to safety. He had been angry at someone else entirely. He hadn’t been in Calgary’s Stampede Park, he hadn’t been anywhere near a midway, and he hadn’t been yelling at some well-meaning cowboy. He had been transported into his past, to some traumatic experience that had deeply affected his life. They had just had a glimpse of the man he used to be. But what, exactly, had that glimpse shown them?
Her gaze was drawn upward, toward Luke’s room. She pictured him, lying there snuggled under the blankets, looking so vulnerable, and she wondered what he had seen that night, and if even he understood it.
The last of the wine was swirling over her tongue when she heard a distinct thump from above. She set down her glass and hurried for the stairs, afraid that Tiffany had fallen out of bed, or that Luke had awoken in pain.
She checked Tiffany’s room first and was startled to find her bed empty. The bathroom door was open and the room was vacant. Then she noticed that Luke’s door was open a crack. Concerned that Tiffany had disturbed him, she quietly pushed open the door and peered inside. She needn’t have worried.
Luke was still asleep, breathing softly and curled up at an odd angle on the huge bed. But now, instead of being snuggled up to only his pillow, his arm was wrapped around a tiny figure who had snuck in and snuggled her back up against the curve of his body. Her head was resting on his arm, and she was already snoring quietly.
Unwilling to disturb the peaceful tableau, Marnie just stood there and watched them, wondering what tomorrow held and wishing she wasn’t falling in love with a man whose future was as nebulous as mist over a mountain stream.
Chapter Fourteen
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
“Tanner!” called Faye up the stairs. “Don’t you think it’s about time you headed for bed?”
Silence was the only response she was granted. It had been that way for weeks. She knew better than to push her luck.
Faye rubbed her hands briskly over her bare arms. It was still almost eighty degrees outside and the air was humid enough to wring out like a dishcloth, but she still felt chilled.
She had a bright new house with brand-new paint and carpet, wide windows and a kitchen that actually looked clean after she had put away dishes and swept the floor. She had been here a week, and it should be starting to feel comfortable and warm. This charming little two-story on Walnut Street should be starting to feel like home. But all she felt in this house was emptiness.
Tanner’s moods were getting worse. Tate’s disappearance had affected him more deeply than she had imagined possible. But, then again, their relationship had always been a complete mystery to her. Tate spent far too much time down at the clubs, and Faye had always thought he neglected Tanner pitifully. But, somehow, Tanner had still managed to form a bond with his father Faye couldn’t begin to comprehend.
A
nd now that Tate was…gone, Tanner had become taciturn and withdrawn. He barely came home to eat and sleep, and even when he was there he either ignored her or stared at her as if he were trying to slice through her with his eyes.
She actually pulled a sweater out of the closet and wrapped it around her thin shoulders. Why did this house always feel so damn cold? There seemed to be an inescapable chill pervading every room. She thought about running her hands under warm water, but as she reached for the tap she reconsidered, jerking back as if stung by the stainless steel faucet. Even turning on a tap had become an exercise in self-discipline, since every time she twisted the control she half-expected to see blood come pouring into the sink instead of water. She knew it was ludicrous, as was the imaginary chill, but she couldn’t seem to cure herself of the affliction.
She was beginning to wonder if she were going insane.
Calvin was no help. If anything, he had become more irritable and surly in the last weeks. She had hoped that finding Tate’s little stash of cash in the bank around the corner from The Pit would have improved his mood. But the amount hadn’t met with Calvin’s satisfaction. He had cursed and ranted for days about the paltry forty thousand dollars, and “How could Tate have blown that wad? That lousy, no-good son of a bitch!” Calvin had wished Tate were alive so he could kill him all over again. The money, together with the few thousand they had profited from the sale of the row house, had barely covered the purchase of this place. He had been driving the girls hard the last few weeks to make up for what he perceived to be lost time.
The girls were balking at the new schedule and complaining loudly that Calvin couldn’t make these changes without Tate’s approval. And “Where the hell was Tate anyway?” They missed him. They wanted their honey back. They wanted the man back who stroked their egos and gave them bonuses. They wanted the boss who cared if they got hurt and made sure that any erring clients were told in no uncertain terms that certain kinds of behavior would not be tolerated.