by Linda Ford
"Okay then. Now tell me what you want to do next."
"Lunch," three voices chorused.
Determined to make up for his earlier behavior, Steele repeated the historical information about Philipsburg. They passed Georgetown Lake and he scoured his mind to remember everything he could about the lake. "At one time special trains came to the lake from Butte with chairs on open gondola cars." He rattled on about the mountains, the mines, the forest service and even remembered to mention the huge elk herds of the area. Anything to keep from thinking about the little boy with the tear-stained face, pink flowers, and Jean and Pops. They seemed to be connected which made no sense whatsoever.
At one point he glanced in his mirror, saw Jean, her eyes closed, her head resting on Pops's shoulder. He'd put her to sleep. Given her a reason to nestle against Pops. Hardly his intention.
He instantly shut up.
They pulled in at Anaconda where the main street seemed to disappear into the foot of a mountain. Pops insisted they have a "real" meal and they stopped at a steak joint.
"Great tour guide," Pops said as they waited for their meal. "Had no idea you knew so much about the area."
Steele nodded. "I read a lot."
"Talk a lot too," Holly murmured, low so the other two didn't hear then turned to include Jean and Pops. "Sure surprised me when he spouted all that information."
Jean chuckled. "I slept through most of it. Sorry."
Steele was thankful the steak arrived at that point and he gave it his total attention. He didn't need anyone to point out how strange he'd been acting. From rude to talkative. He wished he knew what was wrong with him.
When Holly excused herself later to visit the ladies room, he slipped away saying he needed to check the oil in the SUV. He popped the hood and pulled out the dipstick. Of course it didn't need oil. He'd checked it last night. Had it changed a week ago. But he needed his dipstick checked. This whole day had gone from bad to worse and it was only half over. He felt Holly's presence like something under his skin even before she spoke.
"Everything okay?"
No. He'd never felt less okay. She meant the SUV, of course. "Yup."
"I shouldn't have said that about you talking too much. I'm sorry. I realize you're doing your best to entertain Nan and Henry. It's very thoughtful of you."
He straightened, turned to stare at her. A compliment? Her approval slid along his senses like sweet perfume. This time he did tuck back those wandering lengths of hair. His fingers lingered on her smooth cheek. "You're beautiful." He couldn't believe he'd said the words aloud. "Sorry."
She caught his hand before he could jerk back. "Don't be sorry. I don't mind hearing compliments once in awhile. Thank you."
Her eyes filled with something soft and inviting.
He curled his fingers around hers and felt her face beneath his knuckles. He studied her smiling lips, and thought about kissing her.
Then the confusion of the day centered down on this woman. They fought like cats and dogs yet here he was longing to kiss her. He needed a check up from the neck up.
She saw his sudden silent withdrawal and slipped away.
He turned to close the hood wondering if he should slam his head between the pieces of metal. He couldn't remember ever feeling so torqued up inside.
"Next stop Deer Lodge," Pops said, holding the back door open for Jean.
"What's there?" Steele directed his question to Pops but it was Holly he watched as she scooted to the passenger seat and snapped the map open. He'd offended her somehow. He just wasn't sure how, or what to do about it.
"Auto Museum, Old Montana Prison, cowboy collectibles, gun collection—" Holly read from the map.
"We want to see the old autos," Pops said. "Even though we're probably older than lots of them."
"We'll have to be careful or they'll want to keep us in the museum," Jean said and the two of them chuckled like a couple of Laurel and Hardy movie nuts.
Holly sent them a wide smile and Steele let himself relax. "I'd like to see the prison." Surely a visit to such a cold, cruel place would put him firmly back on his feet.
8
Holly put on her sunglasses and adjusted her seat belt. For a moment at the side of the vehicle, she'd thought Steele meant to kiss her. She tried to analyze her feelings.
Disappointment? A little, she admitted. She couldn't deny she felt drawn to him in ways defying reason. And not just today. Somehow, the more time they spent together, the more her feelings toward him shifted.
A touch of concern? That too. All day she'd sensed a tension about him as if he fought himself. It made her ache to hug him and tell him whatever bothered him could be fixed if not by talking than certainly by prayer. And she didn't mean the kind of chatter had him talking nonstop for over an hour as if he feared silence. He'd gone out of his way to entertain them for the last part of the morning, which was cute and charming.
And wary? For sure. He was a man who confessed he despised the things she considered important. The man hated pink flowers. What was with that?
Yet she had hoped he'd kiss her. Felt certain he would. Then something happened to change his mind. She gave a deprecating smile. Probably the man remembered her penchant for romance and it scared him.
Not that she intended to let it ruin her day. Nan and Henry were having a good time and that made everything else less important.
They headed down the highway to more adventure. She expected the older couple to be tired, wanting to nap after the heavy lunch but the food seemed to have energized them. Henry was a good storyteller and soon had them laughing at his tales of cow wrestling, bull stomping and calf busting on the ranch. A time or two Holly wondered at the complete accuracy of his stories. They seemed a little too big to be real. She stole a glance at Steele. He met her look, grinned and rolled his eyes.
She choked back laughter. And suddenly the road seemed smoother. All too soon they arrived at the museum site.
"You two antiques can look at the old cars," Steele said. "I'm going to visit the prison. Holly, you want to come with me?"
She was surprised and touched that he'd arrange for Nan and Henry to wander off by themselves and quickly agreed to stay with Steele. She watched the older couple head into the auto museum, holding hands and nudging each other, laughing at secret jokes. "How nice of you to give them this time alone."
He grinned and looked pleased.
She patted his shoulder. "I'm beginning to think you're a romantic after all."
Instantly his face settled into hard lines.
There was something to be said for knowing when to keep her mouth shut. This would have been one of those times. One thing this man did not want to be called was romantic. But she wouldn't let one slip ruin the rest of the day and grabbed the brochure for a self-guided tour of the prison. "Lead on. Let's see where the bad guys were sent."
"This is my sort of museum." He snagged the brochure from her and took her hand.
She almost tripped at the doorway. Maybe she was wrong. Could be the man knew more about romance than he let on because holding hands as he read from the brochure seemed to her to be pretty romantic.
"No running water or sewer when it was first built," he read. "Just two buckets. One for sewage and another for water. Sounds appealing."
"Not."
They laughed, their gazes locking for a heartbeat. She turned away first.
They read and joked and laughed around the perimeter of the prison. The sun shone down and the reason for the buildings seemed far removed from them until they stepped into the cellblocks and Steele read stories of some of the inmates. By the time they got to the "hole"—a dark, cement room—Holly could no longer smile and Steele had grown quiet. They backed out and stared around the prison yard.
"It's so bleak," Holly murmured.
"Utilitarian," Steele insisted. He grabbed her hand and bolted out the exit into the open air.
Holly laughed. "That's a tour I'll remember for a long time."<
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"I should have never suggested it."
"Why not?"
He caught a strand of hair between his fingers and examined it. "You belong in sunshine and flowers." His expression grew bleak and he sank to the nearby bench and buried his face in his hands.
"It's only an old jail. Thankfully times have changed."
"It's not the jail." His voice was muffled.
"Then what?"
"I don't know." He sounded angry.
She sat beside him and put her hand lightly on his shoulders. Wished she could do more but the man had to find his own way to whatever truth he needed. She prayed God would help him and felt compelled to let Steele know her concern. "Dear God, help Steele deal with whatever is bothering him."
"I keep seeing this little boy in my mind."
"Who is the little boy?"
"I think it might be me."
"Why does it bother you to see him?"
He jerked his head up and stared away. "Because he's crying. He shouldn't be crying."
She felt the harshness of his pain like scraping her fingertips over the rough cement in the prison behind them.
"He's just a little boy, isn't he? Don't little boys cry?"
"Not over dumb things." He jerked to his feet and strode away, swung around, and returned. He stood in front of her, his fists clenched.
She raised her gaze to his face, saw desperation quickly replaced with fury. Slowly she rose. "What were you crying about?"
"Nothing." He snapped around to stare at the museum door. "I don't remember."
Holly went to his side, touched his arm. "I'm sure the little boy didn't think it was dumb. Aren't the child's opinions valid?"
She felt him stiffen, felt a sort of expectant surprise as if he held his breath. She knew her words hit a nerve and prayed he would face whatever it was he kept denying. Her heart squeezed as she thought of the crying child that was Steele. It pained her to think of him hurting. Suddenly she realized whatever had caused him to cry back then still bothered him today. Oh God, pour your healing into his heart. Comfort that little boy who is now this man. She wished she could see his expression but the sunshine off the windows they faced allowed her only a flash.
She pressed the side of her finger against her upper lip to stop the stinging in her nose. She wanted to comfort him, show him love. She slipped her arm around his waist and hugged gently, fearing he would resist her touch but he allowed her to hold him.
A sigh whooshed from his depths. He relaxed inch by inch as she held him. "Sometimes," she whispered, "hurting boys just need a hug."
He dropped his arm across her shoulders. "Thank you."
The air seemed awash with silvery light that settled around her heart and lungs like a fine necklace draped about her neck. She pressed her cheek against his arm. He wore a short sleeved, button front shirt in soft cotton. She'd noticed how the pale tan color made his eyes glow with amber highlights. Now she noted the warmth of the material caressing her cheek like a sun-laden day at the lake. A shadow fell across the window and she saw their reflection and gasped. Here they were hugging each other in full view of God and everyone—it was the everyone she worried about. What would people think? The warmth in her cheeks intensified and she put several inches between them even as Steele jerked his arm from across her shoulders and backed away.
Nan and Henry stepped out of the museum.
One look at her grandmother's grin and twinkling eyes and Holly knew Nan had been one of the spectators.
"Good to see you learning from my example," Henry boomed as he draped his arm across Nan's shoulders and pulled her close and whispered in a voice that could be heard for a block, "Might be hope for these two after all."
Holly didn't dare glance at Steele. She feared his expression would be thunderous.
"You ready to head home?" Steele asked, his voice revealing nothing. He grabbed Holly's hand and headed for the vehicle.
She stole a look then. It might be wishful thinking, but he looked pretty pleased with life. She laughed soft and low in the back of her throat. This feeling of unity with him might be short lived but she wasn't about to waste it by wondering when he'd shift back into his practical, no-nonsense, lawyer mode.
He opened the door and held her elbow as he guided her to the front seat. She gave him a smile no doubt as full of happiness as her heart, which had developed this strange, alarming ability to do a Snoopy dance.
"Thank you," she said, as she settled on the soft leather seat of the SUV. She met his gaze, overflowing with something so tender and fragile she feared taking a breath would shatter it.
"Hey, you two," Henry growled. "I thought we were going home."
Steele glanced at his grandfather, effectively releasing Holly from the uncertain tension.
As they headed back down the highway toward Missoula, Holly tried to sort out what had just happened and how she felt about it. She tried to be rational and failed. She could think of nothing but gratitude. Something had taken place in Steele's heart, some sort of healing and in that moment, he'd reached for her and smiled his favor. She wanted to hug herself with the joy of it.
The bubbling feeling of it couldn't be contained. She had to find an outlet. A victory dance couldn't be performed in the confines of the vehicle. A rah-rah cheer would scare the others. Silly grinning out the side window wasn't entirely satisfying. Talk was the only release available at this moment.
She shifted so she could see into the back seat. "Henry, did Nan tell you about the banquet Steele and I are planning? It's next week." She didn't wait for his answer but rushed on with details of the orphans, the bands, and the decorations. Both grandparents laughed as she described the argument about what form the decorations should take.
"I'm actually anxious to see how the red, white and blue theme will play out."
Steele laughed. "Still doubtful?"
"Not a bit."
He pulled his gaze briefly from the road, his glance rife with meaning.
She knew neither of them meant the decorations alone.
"Do we have volunteers to help set up?" he asked, his attention back on his driving.
"So far it's just you and me."
Another quick glance. Another silent message. He grinned with unusual warmth. As if the idea of the two of them pleased him. Of course, it might be wishful thinking on her part.
"I'll do some recruiting Sunday." His tone informed her people would be agreeing to help.
"Are there still tickets available? Jean, why don't we go? Sounds like fun and a cause I'd like to support."
Holly couldn't think of anyone she'd sooner have there than Nan and Henry. And about a hundred others.
"It looks great," Holly said. The red, white and blue bunting hung from a stage created to look like a bandstand. Streamers hung from the ceiling. The patriotic theme carried through to the napkins on the table and the floral centerpieces.
"I didn't realize it would be so much work."
"Good thing you got so many people to 'volunteer.'" A dozen people, mostly young men, had appeared to set out tables and chairs, and help put up streamers. They'd done their part and left. Only Steele and Holly remained to take care of last minute details.
"I can hardly wait," Holly said. "I sent Heather an e-mail reminding her tomorrow is the big day. Do you have an estimate of the income yet?"
"We still have a few bills to pay so I won't know for sure until tomorrow." He touched Holly's chin. "Don't look so worried. It looks like the orphanage will be able to repair the entire roof. Why don't we put out a donation box in case people want to donate more?"
His touch crowded her mind, made her think of a flower-filled arbor, long walks in the moonlight, staring up into the stars and dreaming mutual dreams. She pulled her thoughts back to center. "Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we raised enough for the orphanage to expand? Heather is always telling me how crowded they are. She says they need more space but never have enough funds."
He trailed his
finger along her cheek filling her with such longing she feared it showed in her eyes.
"You are the most generous person I know," he said. "I can't think of anyone else who would pour themselves into an event the way you have to help children you've never even met."
His undeserved words pleased her. "You've worked as hard as I have."
He chuckled, bringing her curious gaze up to his eyes. He looked at her with dark intensity, searching deep into her soul. Her smile faded as, equally intent, she sought beyond his eyes into what this moment meant.
"I didn't start out caring about orphans. It was only a job assigned to me."
Her smile returned at his confession. Since their public hug outside the old prison, she'd been aware of a change in him, a softening, a gentleness she had only rare glimpses of in the past.
Somewhere in the distance, a phone chirped. Hers.
Neither of them moved. He trailed his finger back along her cheek and across her chin, pausing there. She caught her breath, waited as he studied her mouth.
The chirping stopped.
He lowered his head and—
The phone rang again.
He pulled back. "Someone wants you."
She nodded, choked back disappointment. She located the phone near the door, tucked into her bag, and answered it on without checking the caller ID.
"Hello." Her voice sounded as tense as she felt.
"Hi, honey, did I interrupt you?"
"No, Dad. I was at the far end of the banquet hall. How are you?"
Her father didn't answer. "Dad?" Nothing. She pulled the phone away to make sure it hadn't shut down. Nope. All systems bright and cheerful. She pressed the phone back to her ear. "Dad, are you there?"
"Holly, I have some bad news."
Her knees seemed to disappear. She grabbed at the wall, eased herself down to the bench. "Mom?" she whispered.
"She's gone."
"Gone? What happened?" She imagined an accident on the mountain roads. She always warned Mom she drove too fast.
"She didn't say. Just packed her bag and said it was over."
"She's not dead?"
"Feels like she is. She left me. Holly. She left me."