Larger Than Life

by Alison Kent

  Spencer had slowed for the curve ahead to avoid rolling his truck. His being a careful driver in this case worked in Yancey's favor. He blasted past the boy on the wrong side of the road, braked and spun in front of the truck, forcing the other vehicle onto the shoulder.

  Shoving open his door, he climbed out and headed around the back of his car toward the cab of the truck where Spencer sat dazed. He was wearing his seat belt, and the truck hadn't slopped hard enough to do more than jar him.

  Still, Yancey had to force back his initial reaction, the dutch of fear to his heart. He'd be a damn poor excuse for a father otherwise. In this case, however, he knew Spencer was fine. And that made doing what he had to do less hard than had the boy been hurt.

  He jerked open the truck's driver's-side door and glared. "Do you have some sort of explanation for what went on back there? Because if you do, I'd really like to hear it."

  Spencer was slow to turn, and he kept both hands gripped tight to the wheel when he finally did look over and match Yancey's glare. "You mean the way you threw your weight around and made Candy feel like shit?"

  Always back to the girl. Always back to the girl. "If she's feeling like shit, you can blame yourself. You know I don't want you seeing her. If you did what I said, we wouldn't be having this problem."

  "No, Dad. I blame you. You told her to shut up and get the hell out of your sight."

  "That's not what I said, and you know it." Yancey took a deep breath. "I told both of you to leave while I conducted an official interview. Don't turn it into a personal vendetta."

  "I'm not turning it into anything." Spencer pulled off his ball cap, threw it across the truck's bench seat. "You started it when you decided to butt into my life and tell me who I can date."

  "You don't need to be dating anyone. Not seriously." Why was that so hard for the boy to understand? "And not now. You have football coming up. You have your studies. If you need to be getting laid, do it. Just keep it in your pants and out of your head."

  "God, I can't believe you. You're sick, man. You're fucking sick."

  "Why? Because I want your future to be more than a postscript at the end of the road? You get more involved with that girl than you already are, you won't think of anything or anyone else."

  "There's nothing wrong with her!" Spencer jerked off his scat belt and pushed out of the cab and past his father. And then he turned back and growled. The tailgate rang with metallic fury from the slam of his open palm.

  The palm with which he brought down footballs at the end of Hail Mary passes. Yancey cringed. "Spencer, son. Listen to me."

  "No, Dad. You listen to me. Candy's the best thing that's ever happened in my life. I'm not going to give her up just because you don't like her."

  "This has nothing to do with my feelings for her. It's about my feelings for you. She's the best thing in your life now, yes, but that's because you haven't had a chance to live. Once you're away from here and at school, you'll understand that she's nothing—"

  Spencer swung. Yancey barely managed to duck the boy's fist. He stumbled back against his car, off balance, and Spencer shoved past and jumped back into his cab. He put the truck in reverse and spun backwards off the shoulder, grinding gears as he searched for first and gunning the truck down the road when he did.

  Well, that didn't go so well, Yancey mused, dragging both hands tiredly down his face. Jeanne would tell him he had the finesse of an elephant herd when what he really had was a love for his son that was too profound and powerful to put into words.

  He'd always wondered how different things might have been had the circumstances of Spencer's conception and birth not been what they were. Or if Jeanne hadn't been adamant that they have no more kids. It wasn't being a parent, she'd insisted, but being pregnant again that she wouldn't be able to bear.

  A part of Yancey understood, a part of him never would. But it was her body, not his, her decision, and he loved her too much to ever tell her what it would have meant to him to have another child.

  What he'd done instead was show her the type of man he was by being the best husband and father he knew how to be. And if a part of him spent years longing for more, well... Nothing mattered now but seeing his son never suffered the same sort of regrets of always wondering over might-have-beens.

  ♥ Scanned by Coral ♥

  Six

  Liberty hadn't ridden in a car with leather seats since leaving California. She'd forgotten how sweet they smelled, how warm and rich. Unless what she was smelling was Holden Wagner's cologne or aftershave or whatever it was. God, but she felt so stupid at times. No, not stupid. Ignorant of the world.

  She'd only been sixteen when she'd been dragged halfway across the country for her spiritual good. She hadn't been old enough to go clubbing or anything yet. Yeah, so she made straight A's in school and had scored over fifteen hundred on her SATs. It didn't matter.

  Even with grants and scholarships, her parents would never let her go away to school. Look at what had happened when all she'd done was get a job twenty miles away. Okay, it was more than that, what with the Jase thing and all. But having the sheriff come after her was way embarrassing.

  "Your parents will be glad to find out you're okay," Holden said, watching the road and never looking over.

  She liked his voice. It was kinder than she'd thought it would be. And she liked the way he sat in the car's seat. The way he slouched back—one wrist on the steering wheel, his hand on the gearshift knob, his knees spread open—was kinda sexy and hot. "I don't know why they thought anything was wrong. They moved us here so I'd be sheltered and safe."

  "Well, this time I imagine it's because Jase Bremmer is missing, too."

  She didn't want to think about Jase. The gunshots. His screams. The guy with the long dreads sending her away. She knew she was being sort of selfish, but deep down she also knew that Jase had never really loved her, that she had never really loved him. And, yeah. She was pretty freaked out not knowing what had happened to him. Or what would happen to her.

  It had been fun to have the fantasy of a future with him away from E.T., but that wasn't ever going to happen. She wasn't ever going to have the life she wanted. Her parents wouldn't let her work, so she didn't have money. They wouldn't let her go to school, which meant no education. She was stuck. Stuck, stuck, stuck. And now she'd never feel safe; she'd always be looking over her shoulder.

  "I'm sorry about Jase. I wish I knew what happened or could help the sheriff more. And I probably should've talked to him sooner, but I Was just too scared. Getting the job was the only thing I could think of to do. I just felt safe at the Barn with no one but Candy and Neva knowing I was there."

  That much was the truth. Plus, she liked Candy's designs. The pieces were mega cool. And in case the Barn really did help some girls, she wasn't going to bust them by saying she'd gone there to escape when the job made more sense.

  "Not that it's my place to tell you what to do," Holden advised softly, "but you probably should have let your parents know where you were and what you were doing. That you were okay."

  She twisted in her seat enough to face him. "First off, no car. No way to get back without begging a ride and, trust me, no one goes to Earnestine. Second, no phone. We've lived there a year now, and they still haven't had a line installed. It's torture. Maybe now they'll at least get that much done, though I'll still be on foot until I'm eighty."

  Holden glanced over. She couldn't see his eyes behind the cool lenses he wore, but she did like the way he smiled. It wasn't fatherly at all. It was more like the smile of a friend. Almost like one from a boy who thought she was cute . . .

  Did Holden Wagner think she was cute? Oh, my god, no way! She turned back to stare out the front window at the road ahead. She would just die if he thought she was cute, especially since all the girls at school talked about him like he was as yummy as Brad Pitt.

  "Liberty, let me ask you something."

  "Sure," she said, feeling all bouncy and giddy b
ut forcing herself to sit still and straight. She wasn't so immature that she didn't know what it would mean for a man this powerful to like her, to take her side. If she played things right, he could be her ticket out of town.

  "Do you like nice things? You talked about wanting a phone and not having a car. I just wondered if those things mean a lot to you."

  She gave a soft huff. "They obviously don't mean too much since I'm existing without them."

  He waited a minute—she couldn't even hear the road as they drove, not like in her dad's truck—then said, "Existing. That's an interesting choice of words to describe your life."

  "I suppose. But sometimes it seems like that's all I'm doing. Or all I'll ever be able to do." And now that she'd run off, no telling what sort of punishment she was in for. "Are my folks pretty mad?"

  "Hmm. Worried, yes. But I'm not sure I'd say mad. More like .. . concerned."

  "Concerned about what? That I'll remember how great life was in California before we moved to Earnestine?" She crossed her arms over her chest, flopped back in the cushy seat. "Trust me. I've never forgotten and I never will."

  "I think their concern is for your safety and welfare. For your future. That you'll make bad choices."

  "Bad choices? You mean the way I'd choose to get an education if they'd let me? That I'd want a career and a life of my own?"

  "Concerned about you being able to look out for yourself, care for yourself. Provide for yourself."

  It was the way he added that last part, the tone of his voice. The way he paused. Dread skittered over her skin and settled in her belly. She shivered, and even her nipples got hard. "Oh, no. Don't even tell me they're going to do that. That they're going to try to make me get married."

  "You don't want to get married?"

  "In the future, sure. Once my life isn't such a screwed-up mess, and to a guy I like. One who likes me. Not some old desperate coot wanting babies, or trying to buy eternal life by stocking up on wives." God, this could not be happening. This entire last week, since that night with Jase, everything had gone so wrong.

  "Liberty, be honest with me. Weren't you and Jase running away to be together?"

  "Yes, okay. We were. But not to get married. We hadn't even talked about where we were going. Just away. Maybe to Mexico," she finally added, thinking about Jase saying they'd make a run for the border.

  Holden remained silent for probably five or six miles at least. Or so it seemed to Liberty. Not that she knew anything about the driving distance between Pit Stop and Earnestine. But she did know how to read the mile markers on the road.

  And she knew they were going to be back at her parents' house, that they were going to be home a whole lot sooner than she was ready for. "Could you stop the car? Pull over or something?"

  "Are you going to be sick?"

  More like she didn't want to break down and cry. Not in front of him. She waved her hands. "I just need some air. I'm sorry. I don't mean to act like a baby."

  "I don't think you're acting like a baby," he said, easing the sporty luxury car over to the shoulder of the road. "This news would be a shock to anyone who wasn't expecting it."

  "That's the thing. I should've expected it. Sooner or later. I mean, why move to Earnestine if they weren't going to do like the natives do?" She shoved open the car door and nearly tumbled out, she was in such a hurry.

  She trudged through the ankle-high grass and weeds, all of it brown and stabbing at her legs like sticks, to the fence separating the pasture from the road. It wasn't what she'd always thought of as a pasture. It wasn't green and dotted with spotted dairy cows. It was dry and rocky with tufts of yellowed wheat-looking plants.

  Just like she'd tripped over that night when running across Jase's ranch. Tears were wetting her cheeks when she sensed Holden at her side. "Do you know who they want to marry me off to?"

  Holden nodded. "Cal Able. He works the hardware store with his father. And right now he only has one wife."

  "Oh, like that's supposed to make me feel better." She didn't think she could feel any worse. "I suppose Cal will think it's his duty to beat me if I don't pluck my own chickens, wear sackcloth and ashes, and wipe his feet with my hair."

  Holden didn't respond except to rest his hand on her shoulder for a moment and squeeze before walking back to the car. After a few minutes, she followed, surprised to find him leaning against the side and waiting patiently beside her open door.

  His arms were crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles. The setting sun made his hair look like thick corn silk, almost like Brad Pitt's, like all the girls said. His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but he really was pretty cute.

  "So, what do I do now?" A stupid question, but she really didn't want to go home. If she did, she'd probably never see the light of day again, much less the iridescent coral nail polish she missed so much.

  She supposed she could truly run away, but it was a long way back to California, the only place she knew to go, and she had no money, no transportation, and ending up as a prostitute, living on the streets somewhere between here and there, was a worse end than marrying Cal Able.

  Maybe she could get the wedding postponed until after her birthday. September wasn't that far away, and then her parents wouldn't have any say in what she did. And even if she had to get married then, it didn't have to be forever. She could stand it long enough to figure out a way to get a divorce.

  The sex and the babies thing though ... "I don't suppose I could get a prescription for birth control under an assumed name," she said, then cringed when she realized who she was talking to. God, Holden Wagner supported everything that happened in Earnestine. She tried to smile. "I was just kidding, you know."

  He didn't rebuke her. He didn't make her feel small. He looked at her straight on, like an equal. "There is one other thing I need to know. If you want me to help you."

  Was he kidding? "Help me how?"

  "By making your homecoming easier." He smiled a bit. "By coming up with a solution that might sit better with you while still pleasing your parents and the church elders."

  God, but he was thinking of everything! She'd tell him her entire pathetic life story if it would help. "Ask away."

  "You're almost eighteen, right?"

  She nodded, turned to drop onto the edge of her seat. "In September." And then it hit her. "They're going to rush this through, aren't they? Before my birthday?" Before she could get away or make any sort of plans.

  "You're a very smart girl, Liberty. A very pretty girl." He looked away, stared off into the distance. "Are you still a virgin?"

  She closed her eyes, bowed her head, shook it.

  "Then I guess girl is the wrong word, isn't it?"

  "And I guess Cal won't buy super tampons as an excuse, will he?"

  At that, Holden chuckled. "I like you, Liberty. And if you like me at all, or at least like me better than you do Cal Able, then I think I have a solution to both our problems."

  What kind of problem could he possibly have? And why did it depend on her liking him? Unless . . . She swallowed hard. "A solution?"

  He dropped down to crouch in front of her, ignoring the way the weeds messed up his pants. "I've been in Earnestine seven years. I belong to the church, but I've been reluctant to embrace a lot of the doctrine. I've been more concerned with upholding the law and the residents' constitutional rights."

  She knew all about Holden's position in Earnestine. Everyone did. He was pretty much a legend. "The First Amendment. I know all about it."

  "Good. Now, here's the thing. The city fathers, many of whom serve as church elders, believe my arguments would hold more credence, carry more weight, as it were, if I were married."

  Liberty's heart began to pound. "And how many wives do they think you need for that credence and weight?"

  He laughed then, a sound that was soft and deep at the same time, as if coming up from a place far beneath the surface of the parts of him she'd seen. "As many as possible."


  She snorted, turned her head away. "Have fun."

  "What they don't understand," he went on to say, "is that there is still a lot of outsider in me. And I only want one woman in my life."

  Her heart thundered harder than before. Her chin came up. Her ears continued to ring with the way he spoke the word woman. "Like I said, have fun."

  He took off his sunglasses, rested the hand holding them on her knee. His eyes were dark blue and they twinkled like stars, especially when he smiled. "I want you, Liberty. I want you to be my one and only wife."

  "Not that it's any of my business, but do you want to tell me what that was about?"

  Having lowered himself gingerly to sit in the swing hanging from the porch wrapped around Neva's house, Mick scratched FM's ears and watched the woman pace a trough in the plank floor, arms crossed over her chest, her fury evident. "Seems like an awful lot of drama for one small town."

  He'd stood by earlier, leaning what weight he could painlessly manage against the grill of his ride, and studied the group as those huddled around the picnic table left two by two. The sheriff and the jock kid, obviously related. The shark and the girl, a strange pair.

  That left Neva talking quietly to the black woman, both exaggerating their gestures and expressions. Friends, for certain. Coworkers, he assumed. Partners, maybe. But there was something else, too. A deeper thread, a connection. One he'd need more time to dig into and find.

  And since it had seemed the two were going to be at it awhile, he'd whistled for FM and headed down the road on foot, accepting that the hike would take a hell of a lot out of him, knowing if he stood still any longer he'd seize up like so many bad gears and never be able to move. He was paying for it now, Neva's heavy footsteps jarring his bruises and bones.

  The last time he'd seen her, she'd been cutting him out of his clothes. He obviously hadn't made much of an impression since he was now completely invisible. He was surprised that bothered him; it shouldn't have, even though he had definitely noticed her.

  And doing so had obviously thrown his self-preservation tactics for a loop. He'd misread the spark in her eyes, the flare of her nostrils, the pulse at the base of her throat. He'd thought it attraction, not a signal of fear; he'd since had to reassess. And now what he wanted to know was what scared her, what about him had set her off.