Private Lives

by Karen Young

  He turned. “Yeah, me too.” He gestured toward the book covers. “That’s very impressive, but it’s not everything you’ve published.”

  “No, those are my earlier works. I used to have more ego,” she said, smiling.

  He stood uncertainly for a moment, then drew in a breath. “I wouldn’t say no if you offered me a beer.”

  “And I’d offer you one if there was any in the house. I’m not much of a beer drinker, but I do have some wine.”

  “I’m not particular.”

  She didn’t believe that for a minute. The trappings of a very upscale lifestyle were evident in Ryan’s career, his home, his wardrobe. Even in the casual clothes he seemed to prefer. She was glad that she could offer him good wine.

  “Red or white?” she asked, her hand hovering over a wine rack.

  “You choose.”

  She took down a bottle of Frog’s Leap, then pulled a drawer open looking for the corkscrew. When she found it, he reached and took it gently from her. “Here, let me do that.” In a few deft twists, he uncorked the wine. “We’ll let it breathe for a minute,” he told her.

  “Okay.” An awkward moment passed before she thought to get wineglasses. She moved to the opposite side of the bar and removed two from a hanging rack. To Ryan, she seemed a little breathless. Flustered.

  “I had a talk with Louie this afternoon while you were tied up with your sisters and Steele,” Ryan said, picking up the bottle. “He’s had an interesting life.”

  “I agree. That is, what I know of his life. He’s not very forthcoming with details of his past.” She gave a soft laugh. “It’s the writer in me, I suppose, but sometimes my imagination leaps to some pretty wild what-ifs.”

  “I would think that’s normal, for a writer.”

  “Normal or not, it’s what I do. There’s probably nothing very mysterious in his past, but what a disappointment if he tells me one day he was a mailman.”

  “I think you can strike that one. He admits he was a lawyer.”

  “Really?”

  She looked interested, he thought, pouring some of the wine in the two pretty stems she’d chosen. But not particularly surprised. If she knew more about Louie, she was good at concealing it. They each took a glass. “Hmm, nice,” he said as he tasted it.

  “I like it,” she said, inhaling the heady fragrance. “Usually you can only find Frog’s Leap in restaurants, but there’s a place on West Gray that stocks hard-to-find labels. Actually, Gina told me about it. She was the wine connoisseur.” She stopped, as if mentioning Gina had been unintentional. And painful.

  “She had good taste,” he said quietly. “And not only in wine.”

  In another second, she would be crying. Seeing it, Ryan made a motion toward the French doors leading to the patio. “Can we talk outside? I’d rather Jesse and Cody didn’t overhear our conversation.”

  The April night was mild. The sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine wafted on just a whisper of a breeze. There was a chaise longue on the patio. Ryan watched her go to it and curl up on it. Something about her body language suggested she was folding into herself. He suspected it was self-protective behavior learned during her tumultuous childhood and that thinking of Gina was the reason. He hoped it was Gina and not him.

  “I’ve said it before,” he began, wanting to put her at ease. “You’ve got a great house here, but what you’ve done with the grounds is even better.”

  “I like puttering around in the yard, but I can’t take all the credit. The overall plan came from a professional.”

  They sat for a moment listening to night sounds. There was a full moon and it cast pale shadows on the delicate bones of her face. He wished he had nothing else to do tonight except to spend it with Liz. They hadn’t had enough time together and he worried that after tonight when she learned what he had to tell her, that she might cut him out of her life altogether.

  He drank some of the wine and then set the glass aside carefully. “Louie knew my father. Did you know that?”

  “What?” She seemed to take a moment to change mental gears. “No, I didn’t. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

  “Yes and no. I mentioned my father to him a while ago. I suspected it from some of the things he said that he’d had more than just a casual acquaintance with him. I think they worked together, although he didn’t tell me that in so many words.” Ryan hesitated, then took a seat on the end of the chaise. “I take it you didn’t know any of this.”

  “No, but I’m not really surprised. Louie’s never admitted that Houston was a part of his work history, but he’s often revealed a knowledge of Houston politics as it relates to the legal community. Of course, a news junkie would be in the know, too. I suppose I assumed that was the basis of his interest. But to be honest, it was not something that mattered much to me.” She took a sip of her wine. “Of course, I can understand why it would interest you. At one time I was hungry for information about my parents. My father especially.”

  Did that mean she no longer was? He wondered why. He could tell her that a good source of information on Judge Walker was in and out of her life daily, but she clearly didn’t know Louie was acquainted with Walker. It wasn’t up to Ryan to tell her, especially not tonight. Besides, he was getting more and more curious about Louie Christian as an individual himself.

  “I’ve never been able to get much information about my dad’s career on the bench,” he told her. “Now today, I find out from Louie that he’s sitting on a pile of papers that may answer questions that have tortured me since the day he died. Do you have an idea what that’s all about?”

  “You’re asking me?” She spread the fingers of one hand on her chest.

  “I figure you know Louie Christian better than anyone else.”

  She gave a brief laugh. “Then you know more than I do. As I said a minute ago, Louie’s very private. We don’t talk about his past.”

  “And you’ve never been curious?”

  “No.”

  He studied her face, now turned in profile from him. Studying her, he was aware of something, a scrap of a thought that he couldn’t quite pin down. It was not the first time, and it always slipped away. “I guess I find it interesting that someone as private as you would open yourself to a friendship with anyone whose past is a mystery.”

  She stirred restlessly. “Why are you asking me all these questions when you conclude that I’m even more in the dark than you are?”

  “Because there’s something I need to tell you that’s related to all this. In a way.” He saw the wariness that came over her and thought she was going to get up, possibly ask him to leave. But she didn’t.

  She brought her wineglass to her lips. “Now I’m really confused.”

  “My dad knew Judge Matthew Walker.”

  “You learned that from Louie today, too?”

  “No, I’ve always known they knew each other.”

  “My father and yours—” She looked bewildered. “Were they friends?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe not. I’ve thought for years that they weren’t.”

  “Based on what?”

  He gave a short laugh. “My own imagination, or so it seems now.”

  “Why have you never mentioned this before?”

  This was turning out to be more dicey than he’d thought. He got up from the chaise. “I’m wondering the same thing myself and kicking myself because I didn’t.” He watched her set her wineglass down carefully on the patio and draw her knees up close to her chest. More defensive posture. “I had what I thought was a good reason for not telling you. I thought Judge Walker was responsible for my father’s suicide.”

  She was silent for a couple of heartbeats, looking at him. “You thought. Past tense.”

  “Yeah, past tense. I guess you could call this a confession,” he told her. “I left my objectivity in a hole somewhere when I went into the courtroom to argue Austin’s case against Gina that day. I’d learned our connection—yours and mine—
only a couple of days before the hearing. I’d spent all the years since I was sixteen hating Matthew Walker, so I was out for blood.”

  She was turned from him now, looking at the windows visible in the rear of Louie’s house, but she said nothing.

  “Afterward, I felt like…well, I didn’t feel good. I’m not usually that vicious in the courtroom. I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you.”

  He moved around the chaise, needing to see her face. A feeling of dread was building inside him over what was at stake. Somehow, Liz had become more than just an interesting woman who appealed to him sexually. He’d sensed that she was as aware of the attraction between them as he was, but she had far more reason to be wary even without knowing the connection between their fathers. And Louie had been right. She was a complex person. She didn’t like surprises. Her whole childhood had been a series of ugly surprises. Now, with his heavy-handed confession, something precious and vital and rich with possibilities was in danger of slipping away from him.

  “Why tell me now?” She was still not looking at him.

  “Promise you won’t laugh?” Maybe playing it lightly would work.

  “I’m not finding anything you said funny.”

  “Then how about this? I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  That brought her up and off the chaise. He watched her wrap her arms around herself and pace to the edge of the patio. Something about her looked so vulnerable that he ached to take her in his arms and reassure her. “Is that so bad?” he asked, coming up close behind her.

  “It’s impossible. You never met me until a few weeks ago. You don’t know me.”

  “I do, even if that knowledge has been crammed into a very brief time. Think about it. I’ve been with you in some of your darkest hours. In fact, I’ve probably contributed to them, but I swear I’ll make it up to you. And I’ve learned more about you from Jennifer singing your praises when she gets home. I’ve seen you with Jesse, watched you open up to your sisters. You’re generous and kind and smart and creative.”

  “Oh, please—”

  “And beautiful.” Setting his wine aside, he reached from behind her and took her chin in his hand, turning her face gently toward him. “And I swear that wasn’t the first thing I noticed.”

  She did look up then into his eyes. “Have you been drinking?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, some very good red wine, but less than four ounces.” His smiled stilled. “It’s not alcohol talking, Liz. I want us to be together. I want to spend time with you, get to know you better. I want you to know me. I’ve been with a lot of women since my divorce, but I haven’t met anyone I’d miss if they went out of my life.”

  Her gaze roamed over his features, searching. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say that you’re willing to give us a chance.”

  Her lips curved and he felt some of his tension fade. “I’m willing to think about it.”

  With a smile, he caught both her hands in his and unwound the tight lock she had on herself. “Will you think about this, too?”

  Catching her face, he brought her mouth to his. The kiss was slow and deliberate, telling her without words that he meant what he said. He savored the sweet taste of her for a long moment, then reluctantly broke the kiss and tucked her head beneath his chin. “I’m going to do my dead-level best to be patient, but I’ve gotta tell you, patience was never one of my star qualities.”

  She let out a short laugh. “Don’t you have somewhere to go tonight?”

  Louie. “Yeah.” He heaved a sigh and stepped back reluctantly. “I’ll walk over from here.” Still holding her hand, he looked into her eyes. “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night? Or we can go to a movie. Your choice. Or both. Jennifer can baby-sit.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He’d have to be satisfied with that. “Lock up,” he said.

  Elizabeth stood watching Ryan’s long strides take him deep into the shadows of her lawn, using the path the children had made through the thick oleander border separating Louie’s place from hers. She put a hand to her mouth where the taste of him lingered. Everything that was considered and deliberate and wise in her cautioned against letting herself get involved in an affair just now when her entire life was in turmoil. Her primary concern should be Jesse and winning the custody battle. She was struggling to adjust to Lindsay and Megan coming into her life. She was struggling to adjust to Gina leaving her life. No, too much was happening. Adding Ryan to the mix was a complication that she didn’t need.

  I think I’m falling in love with you. She shivered and turned to go back into the house. What woman wouldn’t be tempted upon hearing those words from a man like Ryan?

  As she opened the French doors to go inside, she heard the phone in the den ringing and rushed to pick it up. Telephone calls were another source of anxiety for Jesse, who now sidled up to Elizabeth and hovered anxiously as she talked.

  “That was your mom, Cody,” Elizabeth said, keeping a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Time to go home. Your dad’s walking over now. How about I help you both pick up these toys?”

  Jesse stayed close, but pitched in with Cody to put away the things they’d played with from the toy box. A moment later, the doorbell rang. And again Jesse’s face filled with fear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m sure that’s Cody’s daddy.” Jesse hung back as Elizabeth went with the little boy to the front door, checking the peephole before opening it. She chatted a moment with Ben Knight, said good-night to Cody, then closed up, threw the dead bolt and activated the alarm.

  “There, we’re all set, sweetheart.”

  Jesse emerged from the den, tucked her hand into Elizabeth’s. “Are you ready for your bath?”

  Jesse nodded, but her big eyes swam with tears, her still-babyish lips quivered. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  Jesse cast a fearful glance to the door.

  “That was Cody’s dad.” Elizabeth put an upbeat note in her voice. “He came to take Cody home. I locked the door tight. We’re safe. We can go to bed now.”

  Jesse still stood motionless and Elizabeth tried to guess what she wanted to say. So much about her was unchanged since Gina’s death. Her small T-shirt was grimy from a day hard at play with Cody, as always. Her tiny jeans had a new tear in one knee. One of her sneakers was untied, the strings soiled and trailing. But so much was utterly different.

  Damn you, Austin.

  Sleep was elusive when Elizabeth turned out the light an hour later and tried to blank everything from her mind. Beside her, Jesse’s warm little body was relaxed. Whatever demons plagued her when awake blessedly seemed to depart once she slept. Elizabeth longed for the same respite, but it was a long time in coming.

  She must have finally dropped off, because she was suddenly brought out of a deep sleep sometime later. In the distance, a dog was barking wildly. She lay for a moment without moving. Archie, she thought vaguely, pinpointing the direction. Louie should check to see what was wrong with Archie. He wasn’t easily agitated and this was clearly an urgent, insistent, something’s wrong kind of bark. Then, checking to see that Jesse wasn’t disturbed by the sound, she carefully sat up, pushed the comforter aside and got out of bed. With the vague idea in mind of checking the grounds around Louie’s house, she padded across the carpeted floor in her bedroom.

  And then she went cold all over. A moving shadow caught her eye. Living alone, she didn’t close her bedroom door. And since Jesse’s trauma, there were night-lights here and there, both upstairs and down. Someone was in the house near the stairs.

  Fear, instantaneous and wild, hit her in the stomach like a fist. Her brain racing, she stood for a heartbeat wondering frantically what to do. She didn’t own a gun. She couldn’t pick Jesse up without waking her and he’d surely hear that. She turned silently and went to her bedside table. Hands shaking, she quietly lifted the cordless phone and took it deep into her walk-in closet. Whoever it was had headed upstairs. The master suite in her house was down
stairs. Did he not know that? Or did he have some other purpose?

  She pressed the first number for 911 before changing her mind. No, Louie was closer. He could be here faster. Holding a folded sweater to muffle the sound, she punched in his number. Waited. One ring. Two. Outside, Archie had stopped barking. “Damn,” she whispered, thinking Louie was dealing with the dog. She was ready to hang up and call 911 when a voice said, “Hello.”

  Ryan? Ryan! She went weak in the knees. “Someone is inside my house, Ryan,” she told him in a whisper. “Please call the police and tell them to hurry.”

  “Where are you?” he asked in a hard tone.

  “In my bedroom closet. Downstairs. With Jesse. He went upstairs.”

  “Is your bedroom door locked?”

  “No, I—”

  “Goddamn it! Lock it now. And don’t hang up. I’ll be there in thirty seconds.”

  “Why—” She heard the clatter when his phone hit a hard surface and stood for a second getting herself together. Holding on to the cordless, she crept out of the closet, crossed to the door of her bedroom and closed it as quietly as possible. The sound of the lock shattered the silence. He was sure to have heard it.

  Leaning against the door, she heard his footsteps coming down the stairs at a fast clip. Trembling, she held her breath, bracing herself for the moment when he’d try her door. Footsteps now, heavier and closer, actually running. But it wasn’t the intruder who spoke. It was Ryan.

  “Liz!” She almost jumped out of her skin, then she whirled about and with fumbling fingers managed to turn the lock. He pushed it open and reached for her, pulling her over the threshold and into his arms.

  She simply clung to him for a few seconds while her heart thundered in her chest and her legs threatened to fold beneath her. “Don’t wake Jesse,” she whispered in his ear.

  “What?” He muttered the word against her temple. She could feel the heavy beat of his heart as out of control as her own. His breath heaved in his chest. She realized he must have run all the way over.