Looking Through Darkness

by Aimée Thurlo

  She looked at the piece now in her hands. It was as perfect as the other. “You’ve been working on two of them all along! I don’t know what to say. What an incredible gift.”

  “The sculpture has my heart and your soul. We’re a part of each other now,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “No more secrets.”

  Her throat tightened so much it ached. It was time. “All right, you deserve to know everything,” she said, and stepped out of his arms. Fear wound through her, almost choking the air out of her lungs, but after a minute to gather her courage, she took a deep, steadying breath, and began.

  “Five years ago I was waitressing at the Bullfrog Tavern, and one night in particular the place was really packed. We were a waitress short, and to make it worse, a drunk at one of my tables was giving me a hard time.” Her voice trailed off as she saw Melvin’s body tense.

  Leigh Ann began to tremble, but gathering her courage, forced herself to continue. “We’d been instructed to stop serving any patron who’d had too much to drink, ask for their car or pickup keys, and call a cab for them. When I tried to get his keys, the man insisted I get him just one more drink. After that, he promised he’d hand them over. I couldn’t serve him any more alcohol, so I decided to give him a cup of coffee instead.”

  She paused for a moment, trying not to cry, but Melvin didn’t break the silence, just sat rock still, waiting, nodding his head slowly. He’d already guessed.

  “What I should have done was get my manager, but I was still new at the job and worried the boss would think I couldn’t handle difficult customers.”

  Melvin still hadn’t made a sound.

  Biting back tears, she continued. “When I got back to the table with the coffee, he was gone. I ran out to the parking lot to try and find him but he’d already left. I forgot all about it until two days ago.”

  Melvin nodded. “When we visited his parents?”

  “Yes, his photo was on the wall in the Jonas entryway. The man I let get away that night was Ronald Jonas. Until that moment I’d never made the connection or seen his photo. He was the drunk I should have stopped the night of your accident.”

  She looked at Melvin, expecting to see disgust on his face, but he simply stood.

  Figuring he’d want her to leave, she went to get her purse. “I’ll go now.”

  “Why?” he said.

  There was no anger at all in his tone, only curiosity. Melvin wasn’t slow, but maybe it just hadn’t hit him yet. “Why? If I’d taken his keys, or gone to get my manager, you wouldn’t have been in that accident and lost your sight. I’m responsible for what happened to you and I’m so very sorry,” she said, her voice breaking on the last syllable.

  Each second that ticked by felt like an eternity to her. She wanted to run out the door, but she owed him the chance to react.

  “You’re not responsible for what happened, Ronnie Jonas was. You’d tried to do the right thing, going for coffee. You had no way of knowing he’d leave.”

  “I should have done something.…”

  “Life’s filled with ‘what ifs,’ Leigh Ann. What if I’d driven down that highway five minutes earlier, or later, or just pulled off the highway?” He expelled his breath in a long, slow hiss. “I’ve learned a lot about myself—and life—these past five years. Had I heard this, say four years ago, I might have blamed you. Back then, I was drinking my life away, angry at the world. I’m past that now. I got hit by a drunk driver. That’s the beginning and the end of that story.”

  He held out his hand, and when she took it, he kissed the center of her palm. “I’ve accepted what happened to me. As much as I wish it were different, my sight’s gone for good. I’ve been given a new gift instead, a vision that goes deeper inside than ever before. I can see anything now through my senses and my imagination.”

  “You’ve adapted, but—”

  He shook his head. “There are no negatives. Before I met you I was empty inside. Your voice, your touch, your courage, they brought me back to life. Can’t you see it, Leigh Ann? Your light pushed back my darkness.”

  She felt the tears running down her face. “You’re a beautiful man, Melvin, inside and out. When I saw that photograph, I thought you might be angry, maybe even hate me.…”

  “No, Leigh Ann, I love you. Let go of the past and take what’s before you today. Can you do that?”

  She stepped into his arms. “This is where I choose to be. I love you. I have for a long time.”

  He cupped her face and took her mouth in a slow burning kiss. As Leigh Ann melted against him, he lifted her into his arms. “I want you in my bed, taking from me, and giving me everything. No more holdbacks.”

  Melvin carried her gently toward the doorway. “Stop!” she whispered.

  “What? Now you change your mind?”

  She laughed. “No, silly. You’re about to slam my legs into the doorjamb.”

  He laughed, then they laughed together. “Okay, now that I’ve been properly embarrassed, you guide me to the bed. After that, I’ll be the one guiding you.”

  The thought was intriguing and formed all kinds of images in her head, all of them X-rated. “Turn to your left, just a little. That’s it, now straight ahead.”

  He carried her through the doorway and took three angled steps toward the bed. “How close am I?” he whispered.

  “One more step, then turn me just a little to your right.”

  “Together, we can make this work, sweetheart.” He took a step, brushed up against the bed, and lowered her to the soft mattress.

  He bent down and undressed her, kissing her in ways that made her moan softly with pleasure. “I want you to burn for me, to need me as much as I do you. It’s our time,” he murmured.

  “I like the darkness in here,” she whispered, reaching out to him.

  “Yes, and there’s balance in that, too. Feel, use your heart and your hands to explore, to learn … to live.”

  Welcoming the darkness, Leigh Ann surrendered to the night.

  — TWENTY-ONE —

  Leigh Ann and Melvin arrived at The Outpost a half hour early, and as they reached the back door it swung open. Leigh Ann jumped back, startled.

  “What are you—” Leigh Ann began.

  Ambrose, looking half asleep, held a finger to his mouth, signaling them to be quiet. “Hi, guys,” he whispered, stepping aside to let them in. “Keep it down. Jo’s still asleep.”

  Leigh Ann led Melvin down the hall to the break room. “You mean Jo’s been here all night?” she whispered back. “What’s going on?”

  “Any news of Ben?” Melvin asked.

  “About ten last night, just as I was about to convince her to go to the house and get some sleep, she got a visit from that army officer,” Ambrose said.

  Leigh Ann sucked in her breath. “And?”

  “He told her that the rescue operation had been successfully completed and that everyone involved had been evacuated by helicopter. He assured her that he would stay on duty until he learned what Ben’s exact status was and would call her, day or night, as soon as he knew.”

  Leigh Ann nodded. “Jo stuck close to the computer all night, hoping to hear from Ben himself.”

  “Yeah, and I stayed with her, talking, trying to keep her sane. She finally dozed off at her desk about two hours ago. You can start getting ready to open up, if you want, but I’ll stick with her. She’ll need to see a friendly face when she wakes up.”

  “I just did,” Jo said, walking across the storeroom to meet them. Going up to Ambrose, she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. “Thanks for having my back last night, brother.”

  “No prob,” Ambrose said.

  “Morning, boss,” Leigh Ann said, noting that Jo looked exhausted. “Let’s see what we can scrounge up for breakfast before we have to open the doors. Melvin and I also have some good news to share.”

  “Other than you took down Pierre Boone’s ass last night?” Ambrose said.

  “How’d you find out
so soon?” Melvin asked. “Oh, never mind. You were at the computer all night.”

  “Following every news report we could find,” Jo replied, nodding. “But give us the details, the local sources never get it right.”

  * * *

  After running back to the Stuart house to shower, Jo returned to her office. More alert now, she stayed close to her computer and kept her cell phone in her pocket. Though waiting for word was taking a huge toll on her, she made a point of leaving her office every half hour and talking to the customers who came to admire Melvin’s exhibit or watch Ambrose’s silversmith demonstrations.

  When lunchtime arrived, Leigh Ann brought her a sandwich and sat across the desk from her. “Staring at the screen isn’t going to make time go by any faster,” she said gently.

  Jo expelled her breath in a whoosh, stood, and made a face at the monitor. “You bucket of chips and wires, give me what I want!”

  A familiar tone sounded on the computer and the Skype screen popped into view. Jo jumped, simultaneously grabbing her headset. Leigh Ann hurried around the desk, praying this would be good news, but ready to help Jo if things didn’t turn out so well.

  Moving the mouse to click on the green video button, Jo looked at Leigh Ann. “It’s Ben!”

  A grainy image appeared and quickly became sharper. Ben was staring back at them. From the background, he appeared to be back in his own quarters. He looked exhausted, sunburned and scratched, and there were crutches propped up against the back of his chair.

  “Ben! You’re alive!” Jo said, half laughing and half crying. “But the crutches. You’re hurt!”

  “I’ll be fine, just a cracked tibia and sprained ankle. Took a hard landing,” he answered, his voice still sounding a little underwater because of the connection.

  “Well, don’t you ever scare me like that again! I was so worried. I miss you so much,” she added in a softer tone.

  Leigh Ann smiled. Since she didn’t have a headset she had no idea what Ben said next, but Jo’s smile could have lit up a room. Moving away, she left the office, closed the door behind her and went to the others to give them the good news. “He looked a little banged up and is on crutches, but otherwise seems okay.”

  Ambrose pointed outside the window. “Here comes that lieutenant, and he has a smile on his face for a change. Let’s see if we can get any more details.”

  * * *

  “Sergeant Stuart’s a hero,” the lieutenant told them as they gathered near the cash register in the main room. “Though his leg was injured in the crash, he protected the rest of the crew for three days. They’re all expected to fully recover from their injuries.”

  Jo smiled. “That’s the Ben I know,” she said.

  “This calls for a celebration,” Ambrose said.

  “Yes, a party! Complete with a barbecue and a country-western band. We can have it right outside,” Leigh Ann said.

  “Guys, I have to get some sleep,” Jo said, giving them a weary smile.

  “You do that, hon. We’ll handle everything,” Leigh Ann said.

  * * *

  That evening Leigh Ann found herself sitting beside Jo on one of the three dozen folding chairs facing the band. Somewhere between twenty and thirty people were already there, helping themselves to the fixings laid out on the long buffet table.

  “Everyone loves a party,” Leigh Ann said, sipping a Coke and watching another pickup coming up the drive.

  “How did you find a band so quickly?” Jo asked.

  “Del. These boys play at high schools in the area, and he knows the skinny guy playing the bass guitar. They’re doing it for free in honor of our community’s latest hero.”

  “I’m so proud of Ben,” Jo said, smiling.

  “So are we all,” Leigh Ann answered.

  Ambrose came over to join them. “Ben’s going to call you tomorrow, right?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the band.

  Jo nodded. “He promised we’d have a long talk. The best part comes from knowing he’ll be grounded until he mends, and not long after that his unit will return stateside and I can go visit him. Leigh Ann and the rest of the staff can do without me for a few days.”

  “We’ve all missed him, you know,” Ambrose said, leaning closer to her ear.

  “Yeah, but I’m not sharing him when he comes home. He’ll be all mine—and the army’s,” she said, then smiled.

  As the band began a slow-moving country-western song, John led Melvin to Leigh Ann’s side.

  “Here you go, nephew.”

  “I saved you a seat right beside me,” Leigh Ann said.

  Melvin remained standing. “No, come on. The band’s playing a great song—romantic and slow. Let’s not waste it.”

  “I didn’t know you liked dancing.”

  Melvin smiled. “I’ll take any excuse to have you in my arms—but just to stay safe, you better lead.”

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  Aimée Thurlo was a true professional, dedicated to her love for books and writing, and only her sudden, fatal illness prevented her from completing the final draft of Looking Through Darkness. We were working as a team, but the last read-through was always hers. Knowing that we were running out of time, we quickly went over the manuscript together. I took notes, planning on entering the changes—later. It was clear that there were more important issues at hand.

  We spent those remaining two weeks at home, talking about everything imaginable from our past and present, experiencing every possible emotion, both of us struggling with the certain knowledge that the end was near. Fortunately, we also had the opportunity to hold hands and recall some of the pleasant memories from the forty-three years we’d been together, and, for a moment, dream of the plans we’d made for the future.

  Aimée and I had wanted to retire, or at least slow down, but that had never included quitting doing what we loved. Writing was in our blood, and we’d still hoped to create more trading post stories. The Outpost was a lively place, with interesting people, and something always going on. And, after all, we had a great editor who was part of our team.

  Melissa Singer had been with us from our very first hardcover novel, Second Shadow in 1993, to what was to become Aimée’s very last manuscript—Looking Through Darkness. Writing with a partner was a blessing to us, and with Melissa’s contributions and insights we had a wonderful ally. She’d helped guide us on the journey that encompassed twenty-three novels over the twenty years we’ve worked with Forge. At the end, Melissa also felt my loss. Thank you again, Melissa, for your friendship and support.

  This is not the final chapter, however. Aimée’s legacy will live on, and people around the world will be reading Thurlo books for many years. Those who got to know Aimée discovered that she was a kind, talented woman who made easy connections with strangers as well as friends. She will be greatly missed by those who loved her and her stories. Aimée Thurlo was a remarkable woman who left us far too soon.

  David Thurlo

  * * *

  — ABOUT THE AUTHORS —

  Before Aimée’s death, she and David Thurlo had written more than seventy novels together, including mysteries, young adult fiction, romances, and romantic suspense. Winners of the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award, the Willa Cather Award for Contemporary Fiction, and the New Mexico Book Award for mystery and suspense, they were the authors of the critically acclaimed Ella Clah and Sister Agatha mystery series and many novels of romantic suspense for Harlequin, including the Copper Canyon series. Looking Through Darkness was Aimée’s last work. You can sign up for email updates here.

  David Thurlo is the author of The Pawnbroker and Grave Consequences. He grew up on the Navajo Reservation and later taught there for many years. He and Aimée, who was a native of Cuba, were partners in life and work for more than forty years. David lives in New Mexico. You can sign up for email updates here.

  Also by Aimée & David Thurlo

  ELLA CLAH NOVELS

  Blackening
Song

  Death Walker

  Bad Medicine

  Enemy Way

  Shooting Chant

  Red Mesa

  Changing Woman

  Tracking Bear

  Wind Spirit

  White Thunder

  Mourning Dove

  Turquoise Girl

  Coyote’s Wife

  Earthway

  Never-ending-snake

  Black Thunder

  Plant Them Deep

  Ghost Medicine

  LEE NEZ NOVELS

  Second Sunrise

  Blood Retribution

  Pale Death

  Surrogate Evil

  SISTER AGATHA NOVELS

  Bad Faith

  Thief in Retreat

  Prey for a Miracle

  False Witness

  Prodigal Nun

  The Bad Samaritan

  TRADING POST

  A Time of Change

  Thank you for buying this

  Tom Doherty Associates ebook.

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  For email updates on Aimée, click here.

  For email updates on David Thurlo, click here.

  — CONTENTS —

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17