by Anna Jeffrey
Thick, wire-rimmed glasses magnified small, sky-blue eyes set into the flattened face of mental retardation. Dahlia stood in the doorway and tried not to stare. For once in her life, Piggy made no smart-aleck remark.
Luke slid behind the wheel. “Scoot over here close to me, Son. We’re gonna take these ladies back to town.”
Son. A warmth encircled Dahlia’s heart as her petty, self indulgent problems shriveled.
The child scrambled close to Luke’s side. Luke put an arm around his narrow shoulders, whispered something to him, then peered across the cab at her, already shifting gears. “Get in. We’re wasting time.”
Dahlia climbed into the sanctum that smelled of hay and leather, an uncommon aroma in her life, but not unpleasant. Piggy followed. The struggle to avoid crushing Luke’s son and straddle the floor-mounted gearshift in her long skirt presented problems. She tugged one way and squirmed another, feeling awkward and clumsy. She could see Luke watching her.
When she settled at last, he angled a look down at her. “Lord, I thought I was gonna have to help you.”
She felt her cheeks glow. Even the sound of his voice sent unfamiliar sensations snaking through her.
The boy, squeezed against his father’s side, began to cry. Luke stopped, slid out and lifted and carried him to the front of the pickup. Thin legs curved around Luke’s waist as the frail-looking child sobbed against a wide shoulder. Dahlia couldn’t hear them above the diesel engine’s clatter, but she could see Luke talking and rubbing his son’s small back with his fingers. He dug a handkerchief out of his rear pocket and wiped the boy’s teary eyes, then cleaned the tiny glasses.
Piggy chewed on her thumb nail as they watched. “What do you think is wrong with him?”
Dahlia couldn’t tear her gaze away from the tender scene before them. “Some kind of birth defect. Down’s Snydrome, maybe.”
“He doesn’t look the same as Hamlin’s little boy.”
Dahlia nodded, recalling an acquaintance in Loretta whose child was a victim of Down’s. “No. He doesn’t.”
Luke carried his son, perched in the crook of his arm, back to the pickup and opened the door. “This is my boy, Jimmy. He doesn’t see many strangers, so he gets excited.” To Jimmy, he said, “These ladies are nice like Aunt Kathleen and Aunt Brenna. We’re gonna give them a ride. That okay with you, pardner?”
Jimmy nodded, his lower lip pushed out, then buried his wet, red face against Luke’s neck.
“I know we‘re crowding him,” Dahlia said. “He—he could sit on my lap.”
“How about that, son? Wouldn’t you like that? She smells awful good, just like Aunt Kathleen.”
Dahlia felt her heartbeat kick up again. Dear God, couldn’t she be around this man without a physical reaction? And she tried to remember what perfume she had sprayed on this morning.
Jimmy hesitated, then cautiously eased down from Luke’s arms and crawled onto Dahlia’s lap. A keen trembling vibrated through her. She had seldom held a child. As a teenager, when many of her friends did babysitting to earn extra money, she had worked in Dad’s store.
She had wanted a child when she and Kenneth first married, but he said the patter of little feet wouldn’t mesh with their busy lifestyle. Too distracting, too confining. In time, she had replaced her desire for motherhood with a career. She had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around this stranger’s damaged little boy. As her brain struggled for logic, Jimmy looked up and offered her his horse.
At the Exxon, they all went inside where Piggy made arrangements for the Blazer to be towed. While no one watched him, Jimmy had gone to the snack machine. Now, he pounded its front viciously with both hands. Luke strode to him, squatted beside him and grasped his hands. Jimmy let out a scream so shrill, Dahlia jumped. Luke spoke to him in a low voice. When Jimmy calmed down, Luke dug coins from his pocket and showed him how get a candy bar from the machine. Dahlia took it all in, fascinated by Luke’s gentle patience.
As Holt Johnson pulled away in the tow truck, Piggy came out of the ladies’ room drying her hands on a paper towel. “We’re screwed for going to Boise if it really is the fuel pump. They don’t have one here. Can’t get it until late tomorrow.”
Jimmy had sidled up to Dahlia and clutched a wad of her skirt in a chocolate-stained hand. Luke saw and pried him away. He had left an egg-sized brown spot on her skirt.
“Damn, I’m sorry,” Luke said. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
Dahlia laughed. “It’s washable. Let’s just call it even.”
Luke gave her a conspiratorial grin. “But my coat was old and dirty.”
“Did I miss something?” Piggy’s glance shifted between them.
“Not a thing,” Luke said. “Lemme use that towel, Red.”
“Sure thing, Slim.” Piggy handed over her damp paper towel.
Luke squatted to wipe his son’s face and hands. “You say you girls were on your way to Boise?”
“Yes.” Dahlia and Piggy answered in duet.
“If you want to, you can ride with me and Jimmy. We’re headed to the feed store and to an appointment, but if you don’t take too long, I’ve got time to haul you where you need to go.”
“We were going shopping,” Dahlia said. “We don’t want to be any trouble. I mean, it sounds like you have things to do.”
“Suit yourself. Wouldn’t offer if I thought it’d be trouble.”
They stood in strained silence while Dahlia’s heart pounded against her breastbone. Then she remembered the oil delivery. “Oh,” she said, “Oil came yesterday. I think we owe you money—”
“Nope. It’s Tom Baker’s responsibility. He agreed he should have filled up the tank when he rented you the place.”
Dahlia couldn’t think of anything else to say. She still didn’t know who had paid for the oil.
Piggy piped up. “Me, I’m up for bumming a ride to Boise. It’s Thursday already and the phone company is supposed to show up tomorrow or Saturday. My cousin will skin us alive if we aren’t ready to work Monday morning.”
Above Dahlia’s protests, they set out again as Luke’s passengers. Jimmy rode on Dahlia’s lap. Not far into the trip, he dropped off to sleep against her breast, wee glasses askew. She removed them and stroked wayward curls off his face. Luke said little. Sneaking sidewise glances at the Tom Selleck profile and stern jaw on her left, Dahlia could see the solemn man to whom those features belonged wasn’t nearly as laid back as the gregarious cowboy in his cups on Tuesday night.
While Piggy filled in the silence with blather, Dahlia’s mind was busy, considering the irony of a physical specimen as perfect as Luke being the father of an imperfect child.
Chapter 6
Luke had closed his ears to the freckle-faced bigmouth about five miles out of Callister, but he couldn’t ignore the sweet-smelling brunette whose left shoulder and hip pushed against his right arm and thigh. All dressed up, she looked like one of those TV models for women’s stuff. Her skin was golden and didn’t have a mark of any kind. He could see the slope of ample breasts subtly rising and falling with each breath, the lacy edge of her bra showing where Jimmy's head twisted her shirt. The sight of his son’s cheek resting there shook him clear to his boots.
He couldn’t find a place to put his right hand, so he hooked his wrist over the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, his arm a barrier between himself and this mysterious lure. Jimmy had taken to her, too, which was puzzling. Lord, Lee Ann Flagg had been hanging around the Double Deuce for years, like family, and Jimmy would hardly talk to her.
Most of the women he spent time with would have been put off by his son, wouldn’t have held him on their laps and finger-combed his hair as if he were normal. The little guy’s own mother wouldn’t even do it.
“Jeez, my tongue’s tired,” the redhead said. “If nobody’s gonna talk to me, I’m going to sleep.” She scooted down in the seat and closed her eyes, and Luke thanked the Lord for small favors.
Dahlia found the silence
oppressive. “How old is Jimmy?”
“Seven.” Luke’s gaze stayed glued to the highway.
“Seven? Oh….I thought he was younger.”
“Most folks do.”
“He seems small for his age.”
“Yes ma’am, he is.”
“Does he, uh, go to school?”
“My mom and I teach him….Least we did.”
His reply sounded defensive, but he spoke with such stone-faced lack of emotion, she couldn’t be sure. Except for Dad, she wasn’t accustomed to men who had so little to say when given the opportunity to vent. In the sophisticated world in which she had functioned in Dallas, most of the men she knew were self-absorbed egomaniacs enamoured with the sound of their own voices. She had been married to one of them. “He lives with you, then?”
They had reached the outskirts of Boise and a crossroads with a stop sign. As Luke braked, he turned his head to face her. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yes, he lives with me.” His tone said, “How-dare-you-intrude?” A few beats passed and he added, “I make it policy not to talk about my kids with people who don’t know ’em.”
A parade of emotions showed in his eyes, not the least of which was pain and she saw she had stumbled onto something complex, something that ran as deep her own weaknesses.But weakness wasn’t the right word, not for this man whose upper arm touched and warmed hers. Vulnerability was more accurate. The difference between the two words hadn’t been defined and separated in her mind before, but looking into Luke McRae’s troubled eyes, it was. Her curiosity became as rampant as her pulse rate. “Do you see Piggy and me as some kind of threat?”
She felt the movement in his thigh as his foot shifted from the brake to the accelerator. As the pickup moved forward, a corner of his mouth curved into something that lay somewhere between a grin and a smirk. “You always this nosy?”
Anger, uncharacteristic for her, sparked. “It’s called conversation. In the civilized world, we do it all the time.”
He didn’t reply, just glanced at his sleeping son. “He’s probably getting heavy. We’ll be at the feed store in a minute.”
“No problem.” Jerk. Dahlia drew herself up and stanched the emotion threatening to spill everywhere. Shifting away from touching him, she jostled Jimmy, who murmured in his sleep.
In reality, the “feed store” was a farm supply with a large variety of products for sale, some of which she and Piggy needed. Jimmy appeared to be in familiar surroundings. He beelined for the back of the store. Luke followed. Soon they heard another of Jimmy’s shrill screams.
When Luke brought him back, the seven-year-old was eating a candy bar. He ran to Dahlia’s side, hugged her legs with soiled hands and buried his chocolate-smeared face against the front of her skirt. Luke’s brow drew into a frown, but his eyes begged for understanding.
She forced a smile. “It already needed to be washed.”
While Luke had a conversation with the clerk about supplements, Jimmy was picking up boxes of products that might be toxic, scattering a display of folded T-shirts. Luke saw, but did nothing about his son’s behavior.
In the Handy Pantry, Dahlia had been on the opposite end of this scenario. Empathizing with the merchant, she squatted to Jimmy’s level and caught his frenetic hands as she had seen Luke do at the Exxon station. “Look, Jimmy, let’s put all these shirts back the way we found them.” She folded one as he watched. “These don’t belong to us. It isn’t nice to make such a big mess. I know you’re a nice boy, so help me, now.”
One by one, he handed over the shirts he had piled together. When they finished, she put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a hug. “That man talking to your dad is going to be so glad we did this for him. Doesn’t that make you feel good?”
A glance from the clerk said thanks.
Luke’s business took a short time. When he finished, he guided them to a display of thermal underwear and all-weather boots. After making recommendations, he busied himself with placating Jimmy while Piggy and she made purchases. They left the feed store, he dropped them off at K-Mart and told them he would pick them up in two hours.
They completed their shopping well before he returned and waited on a bench on the sidewalk outside the store. The day had turned warm, so they shed their coats and lazed in sunshine.
“That’s kid’s something else.” Piggy voiced the impact of Jimmy’s behavior. “Do you think he’s spoiled or does he act so bad because of…you know, the way he is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe both.”
“He sure likes you, girlfriend.” Piggy glanced at Dahlia’s skirt. “And you’re covered with chocolate to prove it.”
“Puppies like me, too,” Dahlia said with a laugh. She had laughed more today than she had in a long time, felt a lot of emotions she had feared might be dead.
They saw Luke’s pickup and reached for their bags. He took them to McDonald’s for lunch and guided them to a booth inside.
After what she had seen of his son so far, Dahlia was glad. She couldn’t imagine trying to manage the undisciplined child in a more traditional restaurant.
As he ate, Jimmy rocked from one knee to the other on the seat. Near the end of lunch, he said, “Zoo, Daddy,” and made a loud growling noise.
Luke looked at them across the table, his eyes pleading again. “I take him to the zoo when we’re in Boise.”
Sensing a wisecrack ready to burst from Piggy, Dahlia gouged her with her elbow. “Zoo’s good. That’ll be fine.”
Before they left McDonald’s, Luke bought Jimmy an ice cream cone. A premonition sent Dahlia to the ladies’ room where she dampened some paper towels and stuffed them into her purse.
The Boise zoo was plain compared to the exotic, well-funded Fort Worth and Dallas zoos, but they did see Northwest forest denizens she and Piggy hadn’t seen in real life. Jimmy was beside himself with excitement, racing between exhibits. He sought her hand often as they strolled through the manicured pathways and a few times, while she hung onto one of Jimmy’s hands, Luke hung onto the other.
Just like a family
Don’t be insane, Dahlia.
While Luke had revealed few facts about himself, Dahlia saw he was far more interested in the zoo animals than she and Piggy were and what’s more, he knew obscure facts about them.He even became talkative. At the elk pen, he said, “Elk have ivory eye-teeth. The Indians used them for jewelry. They’re range animals. I hate seeing ‘em penned up like this.”
“You don’t say.” Piggy bobbed her cocked head.
Dahlia seared her with a glare and whispered. “Stop being so rude.” To Luke, she said, “That’s very interesting. We didn’t know that.”
They looked down on two black bears eating something unidentifiable. “Bears are like hogs. They eat just about anything,” Luke said.
“Imagine that,” Piggy said.
Before Dahlia could glare at her again, Luke removed his toothpick and fixed her with a hard look. “I’ll tell you one thing, Red. If you meet one on that surveying job, I hope you stay downwind. They’re almost blind and they can’t hear too good, but they can smell to beat hell. And they clock at thirty miles an hour.”
Piggy scowled and clamped her mouth shut. Dahlia hid a grin. Few people halted Piggy’s tongue.
At the snack bar, Luke steered them to a table and he and Jimmy went to the counter to order drinks. He returned from the Pick-up window with a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee and two of hot water with tea bags. Dahlia didn’t have the heart to tell him that when they had asked for tea, they expected iced tea.
Jimmy had a cup of hot chocolate and a Hershey bar. He danced on one foot, then the other. Luke peeled the candy, Jimmy grabbed it and ran to the far side of the room to watch tropical fish in a wall-sized aquarium.
“He might not be so hyper if you didn’t feed him so much sugar and chocolate,” Dahlia said.
Luke stared at her as if she had accused him of child abuse. “You got any kids?”
Dahlia squ
ared her shoulders and stared back. “Well, no, but I haven’t been living under a rock. Everyone knows the sugar intake of children should be controlled, some more than others.”
The staring became a contest.
“I just mean,” she said, breaking away and dunking her tea bag, “if he already suffers from a handicap, you shouldn’t do things that don’t inure to his optimum benefit.”
A reddish eyebrow shot half-way up Luke’s forehead. “Inure to his optimum benefit?”
Piggy frowned at her. “What the hell does that mean?”
Dahlia touched her temple with her fingertips and shook her head. “Forget it. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right about the last part.” Luke shoved his toothpick back into the corner of his mouth.
The trip home began in heavy silence. Jimmy sat on Dahlia’s lap. Luke was pensive and seemed preoccupied. Dahlia stewed, wondering if her remarks had angered him.
After a while, Piggy said, “Hey, Jimbo, look here. You and I’ve got matching hair.” She lifted a strand of her own hair and held it next to Jimmy’s. “Whaddya think?”
He laughed and touched her hair with both hands.
“Can you sing? You know any songs?”
Jimmy nodded with such enthusiasm his bangs flapped.
Piggy sang a Barney song which Dahlia supposed she had heard from one of her many nieces or nephews. Jimmy followed along, then Dahlia began to sing, too. Luke stared straight ahead.
At the end of the song, Dahlia said, “Alright, Jimmy!” and taught him to high-five. They spent the rest of the trip singing children’s songs and high-fiving. Luke didn’t comment or join in.
When they arrived at the cottage, he dutifully helped them gather their packages from the back of the pickup. A part of Dahlia wanted to understand why he seemed so disturbed, but a more rational part asked her why she cared.
As she reached for the last bag, she looked up at him. “We appreciate your help. I hope you don’t think I was judging you with what I said about your son. I can see how much you love him.”