by Kimber White
Someone was behind me.
Turning, my breath left me. A tall figure rounded the hill. Rain poured down in sheets. I stayed under the protection of the porch, gripping the wooden railing. I couldn’t see well through the pounding rain. It pummeled the ground, splashing up around my feet.
The man coming toward me was broad-shouldered and strong. It wasn’t Gil. It wasn’t my father. He loomed larger with each step he took and his eyes flashed as he looked at me. It would seem strange to me later that I noticed his eyes before anything else. I felt transfixed by them, riveted and rooted to my spot. But then, I did notice the rest of him. He walked with sure steps as he carried a limp body in his arms. Two other young men trailed behind him, running to keep up with the bigger man’s long strides.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe as my brain tried to take in what my eyes saw. He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, water dripping from his dark hair. His steel-gray eyes locked with mine. My knees buckled as my head finally caught up to the rest of my senses.
Harold’s body hung slack across his muscled biceps as if he weighed nothing. For a moment, I thought for sure Harold was dead and ice shot through my veins, nearly driving me to my knees. Somehow, I stood my ground. My stomach roiled as Harold groaned in pain and blood poured from a gash on his forehead. His skin had turned pale gray and chest heaved with labored breathing.
“Miss Bonner,” the man said, his voice deep and authoritative, causing a ripple along my spine. “You’re brother’s been badly hurt. We need to get him inside.”
Chapter Two
“Bring him into the back bedroom,” I answered, forcing the words out. I shot a look toward Grandpa as he struggled to throw off the afghan covering his legs and rise to his feet.
Heavy boots tromped over the wood floors. I got to the bedroom door first and opened it. Pressing my back against the door, I let the man carry my injured brother into the room. His shoulder brushed against mine as he passed and I felt the heat coming off of him in waves. Gently, he laid Harold down on the bed. When Harold tried to roll to his side, agony etched deep lines across his forehead. Adrenaline shot through me and I went to his side.
“What happened?”
“Patsy! What the hell’s going on?” Grandpa yelled from the other room. I realized the last thing I’d need was him trying to rush in here. Without his walker, he’d never make it and then I’d have two patients instead of one.
“It looks worse than it is,” my new visitor said; his deep voice vibrated across the wooden floorboards.
I turned to him. He hadn’t answered my question, but no doubt whatever trouble Harold had stumbled into, this man was at the root of it. My eyes darted to his two younger companions. They stood in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder with their heads down. God, they were huge, all three of them. The leader had to be close to six and a half feet tall. Were they brothers? He couldn’t be old enough to be their father, but whoever he was, they deferred to him absolutely. The others were big but not much older than Harold. Sheriff Gil’s words seemed to hover in the air.
He’s been seen around town with boys that are flat out no good. Outsiders. Troublemakers.
My back stiffened and I pressed Harold’s chest flat against the bed when he tried to get up.
“You stay put,” I said, mustering up my own authoritative tone. “You,” I turned to the boys by the door. “You might as well make yourself useful and go to the kitchen. There’s a basin by the sink. Fill it with warm water and soap. You’ll find a stack of clean towels on the table. Hurry up about it.”
They looked toward their leader, not seeming able to make a move without his say so. He raised a dark brow at me, then gave the younger boys a terse nod and off they went. I turned back to Harold and brushed the hair out of his eyes. I didn’t like his color. His warm, green eyes searched my face. He was scared. For an instant, he wasn’t fifteen almost sixteen anymore. He was just a little boy with scraped knees and a cowlick at the crown of his head that would never stay down. I’d taken that boy by his chubby hand and walked him down the road to the bus stop the Monday after we put our mother in the ground. Smiling, I said the very same thing to him as I had that November morning almost ten years ago.
“It’s not so bad, Harold.”
Remembering just as I did, Harold tried to crack a smile. The effort of it made him wince in pain and I ran my fingers along his temple, pushing his unruly blond hair aside. The cut ran from behind one ear nearly to the nape of his neck. It wasn’t deep, thank God, but the jagged edges of it gaped open. His left eye started to swell but the bleeding had mostly stopped.
“Is this all of it?” I asked. “Where else are you hurt?”
Harold tried to sit up again and I pressed his shoulder against the mattress. Our visitor finally stepped forward and cleared his throat.
“He got into a little bit of a tussle,” he said.
“I can see that,” I snapped. “And just who are you?”
“Luke,” he said, thrusting his hand out toward mine. My eyes darted over him and he narrowed his before pulling his hand away. I wouldn’t move from Harold’s side. “Luke McGraw.” He said the name with such emphasis, it almost felt like he’d revealed some secret I should be privileged to know. At the moment, I was mostly just scared for Harold and angry he’d gotten himself mixed up in whatever this was.
At that point, the younger men came into the room carrying the basin and towels I’d asked for. They looked to Luke, but I straightened, putting my hands on my hips.
“Set them right here.” I pointed to the nightstand. Not wanting to waste another second, I dipped one of the towels into the soapy water and started to gently clean the wound on Harold’s head.
It only took a few moments before the water in the basin turned bright red. But, I could see now the wound really wasn’t very deep at all. It could use stitches though, and I just prayed he hadn’t hit his head hard enough to do any damage I couldn’t see. Harold bore my ministrations well and before long I had him cleaned up to my satisfaction.
I left him for a moment to get a clean bandage and some iodine from the hall closet. Luke stood tall and straight near the door but let me pass without comment. Grandpa Bonner had found his walker and stood at the end of the hallway.
“It’s okay,” I said, not wanting to alarm him. Along with all of Grandpa’s other ailments, he had a bum ticker. He tried to peer around the corner, clearly not satisfied with my answer. Straightening his shoulders, I could see Grandpa had a mind to try and barge into the back bedroom. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on his brow, making it clear the effort had already started to strain him.
“Grandpa, it’s okay. Harold had a bad fall. He’s cut up some, but I don’t think it’s too serious. I’m just gonna get some iodine and finish cleaning him up. If it’s deep enough, we’ll call Dr. Bodine to come out and have a look at him.”
Grandpa harrumphed, but his shoulders started to shake. I really didn’t need a second crisis, so I took him gently by the arm and helped him back into his easy chair.
“Where the hell’s Lloyd?” Grandpa barked at me. He couldn’t physically take charge anymore, so he’d have to satisfy himself with yelling.
“He’ll be back before supper, I’m sure of it. Now, just sit tight and let me finish looking after Harold.”
I got the iodine and a roll of gauze from the hall closet, an ice pack from the freezer, then went back into the spare bedroom. Luke’s two younger friends blocked my path. Blowing a stray hair away from my face, I muscled past them. Harold was now sitting up on the bed looking much better than he had a few minutes ago. My heart tripped and I had twin urges to hug him and throttle him. I settled for pressing an iodine-soaked cloth to his head and making him keep it there.
“Now, does somebody want to tell me what’s going on?” I made quick work of the gauze, winding three layers of it around Harold’s head. Just a tiny spot of blood soaked through and I took that as a good sign.
Hands on my hips, I tu
rned back to the three strangers who’d invaded my home. Luke gave a stern look to the others, nudging them forward.
“Harold?” Tapping my foot, I waited for an answer.
Harold’s smile melted me, but I kept my face hard. “Aw, Patsy, there’s no reason to be sore. I just took a tumble and hit my head on some rocks.”
He was lying. Harold never could keep his eyes on mine when he was telling a fib. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about Sheriff Masur’s visit, but I didn’t know these men. I didn’t want to spread our business all over town if it hadn’t made it there already.
Luke stepped forward and put a hand on each of the younger boys’ shoulders. He gave them a withering look and the color drained from both of their faces.
“We’re sorry, uh...ma’am,” one of them said. His cheeks flamed red to match the ruddy tone of his hair. “We didn’t mean any harm.”
“You did this to my brother?”
The other boy looked at me. “No. I mean, we were together, but we didn’t hurt him. Hell, we told him not to follow us.”
“Watch your mouth,” Luke said, cuffing the boy.
“Harold,” I turned back. “What’s going on? Who are these people?”
Smiling, Harold raised a finger. He pointed to the ginger-haired boy. “That’s Marcus Tully.”
Marcus shot me a slow smile then dipped his head again. His sheepish expression reminded me way too much of Harold’s in the way it was both endearing and infuriating. For now, I decided to settle on contained fury.
“And that’s Charlie Devane,” Harold said.
Marcus and Charlie. So far, nothing about them disabused me of Gil Masur’s impression. They certainly didn’t attend school with Harold, and I didn’t believe for a minute his story about falling on a rock. Harold’s deepening shiner had all the hallmarks of being caused by somebody’s fist. Both Marcus and Charlie had cuts and scrapes all over their knuckles.
“Well, now that we’ve all been properly introduced, I think maybe you boys should leave.”
“Patsy, don’t be rude!”
I whirled back on him. “Don’t you Patsy me, Harold. There’s a lot more going on today than you realize. For now though, you just keep that ice pack over that eye of yours and stay put.”
I made a shooing gesture to Luke McGraw and his band of hooligans. Luke’s eyes flashed with amusement, but he jerked his chin at the others. They each gave Harold a tight-lipped smile and filed out of the bedroom.
Grandpa Bonner had retreated to the relative quiet of his own bedroom, and I was glad of it. I’d have my hands full trying to calm him down later. Marcus and Charlie made their way out the front door. Marcus turned back and locked eyes with Luke. He must have read something in Luke’s expression because he nodded back. Then he and Charlie tore down the driveway and disappeared over the hill.
The rain had finally stopped, leaving a clear blue sky and bright sun in its wake. Luke’s presence beside me on the porch unsettled me. It was as if the air around him were charged with some sort of electrical current. My pulse flickered as I turned to face him.
My eyes went up and up as he stood in front of me. I can think of no better way to describe Luke McGraw except brutally beautiful. He stood with a quiet grace, his gray eyes studying my face. A muscle jumped in his chiseled jaw and I had the strongest urge to trace my fingers along it, letting his dark stubble tickle my skin. I shouldn’t have even thought it, and maybe it was just a byproduct of the adrenaline rush I still felt from the moment I saw Harold bleeding. And yet, this man standing before me seemed to command the attention of my every nerve ending.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Crossing my arms in front of me, I nodded. “Are you responsible for those two?”
Luke’s grin melted me. He took a step forward and I could feel his intense body heat from where I stood. It had to have just been the chill I felt from the recent rain, but at that moment, I would have given anything just to know what it would feel like to have those strong arms wrapped around me. I shook my head, trying to snap those thoughts out of my brain. This wasn’t me. It just had to be the excitement of the last few minutes making me short circuit like that, nothing more.
“In a manner of speaking,” he answered. “Charlie and Marcus are young and they don’t have any other family but me. They acted recklessly today, dragging your brother into something they shouldn’t. I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again. In fact, that’s the reason I came. I mean, other than making sure Harold got tended to. I’d like to speak the adult of the house.”
I put a hand to my cheek. “Adult of the house? Well, you already are.”
Luke’s eyes glinted and a hint of a smirk lit his face. “You? A tiny little thing like you? I just assumed you were a…”
“A what? A kid? I’m 19, Mr. McGraw.” I have no idea why I felt the need to fib. Well, it wasn’t much of one anyway. My birthday was ten weeks away. “But besides that, in the thirty minutes you’ve known me, have you seen anything that makes you think I’m the irresponsible one around here?”
Luke set his jaw to the side and smiled at me in earnest. My insides turned to jelly. Good Lord, he had to be just about the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on.
“You know,” he said. “I feel the need to start over with you. Your brother called you Patsy, but somehow that doesn’t seem to fit. What’s your real name, Miss Bonner?”
“It’s Patricia,” I said.
“Patricia. Well, that’s perfect. Patricia Bonner, it’s very nice to meet you.” Luke extended his hand to mine. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before I took it. When I did, fire flooded my senses. My heart raced. Something changed about Luke too. It happened so fast, later I tried to convince myself I’d imagined it. I didn’t though. When Luke McGraw’s skin touched mine, his eyes went from gray to silver. When he let go of me, a chill ran through me.
“Anyway, Patricia,” Luke’s voice grew unsteady for a moment. Whatever happened when he touched me, a similar turmoil seemed to unnerve him as much as it had me. “I shouldn’t keep you. But, I did want to render an apology to Harold’s mother.”
“You can’t,” I said, my voice snapping more than I wanted. “I mean, she’s passed away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is it just you and your grandfather then?”
“What? Um...no. My father, he’s...well...he’s around somewhere.”
Luke lifted his chin and his eyes narrowed in understanding, but somehow, not judgment. “I see. Well, Patricia, it was nice to meet you. I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”
“I just need you to keep your...uh...Marcus and Charlie away from Harold. It seems they’re good at bringing out the worst in him. He should have been in school today. Now, I don’t mean to pry into your business or theirs, but Charlie and Marcus look young enough that they should be there too.”
Luke stepped back and finally looked away. If I had to guess, I’d hit on something he didn’t want to explain. It hardened my resolve and I straightened my back.
“Of course,” he said.
“I’ll take care of my own, Mr. McGraw. Can I trust that from now on you’ll take care of your own?”
Luke’s eyes hardened as he fixed them back on mine again. I met his gaze and matched the intensity of his stare. I couldn’t back down. If he had any influence over those two boys, and it was clear he did, he needed to keep them away from Harold for good. While my head told me the best thing was to throw this man off our land once and for all, other parts of my body were saying something decidedly different.
“You don’t have to worry...Patricia,” he said, setting his mouth into a grim line. I found myself missing his devilish smirk.
“I do worry,” I said, taking a bold step toward him. “I worry an awful lot. Harold needs to be in school. I don’t have to tell you what happens to boys like him if he can’t get into college in a couple of years. It matters...Mr. McGraw.”
“No, I suppose you don
’t. Again, I am sorry for the trouble Charlie and Marcus have evidently caused. I’ll take care of it.”
He paused then. Luke stood before me with his head cocked a little to the side. A hint of that smirk came back and those piercing gray eyes of his seemed to see straight through me. I felt the heat of a blush creeping into my cheeks, but I held my ground. It felt important somehow that Luke knew I wasn’t afraid of him. And I wasn’t, not really. But he did intimidate me. Standing that close to him sent all sorts of signals racing through my body. My heart hammered, my blood seemed to warm, and my knees felt weak again.
“Goodbye,” I finally said. Luke’s face split into a full smile then. He gave me quick nod then turned to leave. He bounded down the porch steps taking them two at a time. My breath came hot as the distance between us grew. When Luke reached the top of the hill, he turned back and lifted his hand in a wave.
I waved back, unable to stop the grin that spread over my own face. In the distance, a howl rose that made the hair stand on the back of my neck. Luke froze and I swear I saw his eyes change again. Except that was impossible. With the afternoon sun beating straight overhead, I could no longer see the details of his face. Luke’s eyes though, they burned like two silver flames for just a moment before he turned and disappeared on the other side of the hill.
I don’t know how long I stood and watched, but a keening howl rose again. It was soon joined by two others. I nearly jumped out of my skin as Harold emerged from the house. He stood beside me holding our father’s shotgun.
“Come on inside,” he said. The howling grew louder.
“What are you doing with that thing? You should be in bed.”
For the first time since Luke carried him bleeding into the house, my brother looked scared. If I needed any other proof, I knew now for certain he’d told me a pack of lies about what happened to him today.
“Just come on inside,” he said.
“Or what?” Yet another howl carried itself to us on the breeze.
Harold’s face grew whiter and he leaned against the wall to steady himself. “Just nothin’, Sis. Probably coyotes. Dad and I will set some traps tomorrow.”
