The Rebel's Return

by Gina Wilkins

  Turning off the engine, she sat with her hands on the steering wheel for several long moments, staring at the gate and the road beyond. The same impulse that had brought her here made her open the door and climb out of the car, zipping up her lined denim jacket against the cold morning air.

  She’d met Lucas here on winter mornings like this during her senior year of high school. Bundled in coats, scarves, hats and gloves, they’d snuggled together for warmth, their breath mingling in the air as they’d gazed off the bluff and planned a future together.

  Lucas had been two years older than Rachel, and she had adored him. He’d been handsome and exciting, tough and complex. His notorious temper hadn’t concerned her, since he’d never turned it against her. With her, he’d been gentle, caring—sweet, even—a side of him she knew few people saw.

  She’d actually admired his rebellious spirit, envying him his freedom and courage. No one had made Lucas McBride do anything he didn’t want to do. Rachel had been just the opposite. Back then, she’d been the dutiful daughter, the teacher’s pet, the honor student and role model. Sneaking around to see Lucas had been the only act of rebellion she’d ever committed.

  Feeling a touch of that old recklessness now, she approached the gate, noting that it would be easy enough to climb over. She put a hand on the top rail. She knew the gate was there for a reason, just as those Do Not Enter signs had been—but she wasn’t in the mood to meekly follow rules at the moment.

  She was still telling herself what a bad idea this was when she rested a booted foot on the bottom rail and stepped up. It was as if she were compelled to finish this pilgrimage into the past.

  Maybe if she faced the memories again, they would stop haunting her. Surely fifteen years was long enough to pay for the foolish mistakes of her youth.

  She dropped lightly onto the ground on the other side of the gate, pleased and rather surprised by how easily she’d scaled it. Not bad for a thirty-three-year-old accountant.

  She didn’t race up the path as she had at eighteen, but took her time walking the rest of the way to the overlook. It really was a beautiful morning. Birds sang from the tree branches overhead, and something rustled in the underbrush to her left—deer?—squirrel? She paid little attention to the noises, her attention focused on her objective.

  The lane ended at the edge of the rock bluffs that loomed thirty feet above a wide, rushing creek. On the other side, the land rose again, climbing into more wooded acreage that had once belonged to McBrides, but had since passed into other hands.

  Lucas had talked of buying that land, she remembered now. He’d wanted to build a house at the very top of the rise, with a deck overlooking the bluffs and the creek. He’d be able to feed the deer and squirrels from his porch, he’d said. Drink his morning coffee in the serenity of a crisp Georgia morning.

  She wondered if Lucas had ever found the peace he’d craved.

  A narrow footpath, worn by generations of hikers, ran along the edge of the bluffs. Rachel’s steps slowed as she followed that path, her boots crunching on rocks and twigs. She wondered if the old stone structure she and Lucas had spent hours in would still be standing after so long. Had the McBrides torn it down to further discourage trespassers?

  But when she pushed past a straggly evergreen half blocking the little-used path, she saw that the old building was still intact, if considerably more weathered than the last time she’d seen it.

  Built in the fifties by Lucas’s grandfather, Josiah McBride Sr., the ten-by-twelve structure resembled a gazebo or small pavilion built entirely of native stone. She and Lucas had always called it “the rock house.” Small openings in the walls allowed fresh air to circulate through. Moss had formed on the floor and walls, making the shelter look as though it had sprouted from the forest floor. Rock benches lined the inside walls, providing shaded rest for weary hikers, a quiet place to commune with nature and escape the stress of everyday life.

  It had made a very romantic meeting place for two young lovers kept apart by family hostility.

  Rachel realized she was holding her breath as she slipped through the open doorway. Her heart was suddenly, inexplicably racing, the way it had on those earlier, happier visits to this place. She exhaled deeply when she stepped into the shelter to find it predictably empty, except for piles of dead leaves, as well as evidence of four-legged visitors.

  Lucas had always kept the shelter swept out. He’d made sure the benches were clean so that Rachel’s clothes wouldn’t be soiled when she sat on them with him. The last time they’d been together here had been a stormy Saturday, a week after Rachel graduated from high school. The rain had fallen steadily outside, showering musically from the leaves of the trees surrounding them, but they’d been cozy and dry inside the shelter.

  Lucas had brought a picnic lunch, and they’d spent several stolen hours talking, laughing, kissing—and reading aloud from a book of poetry Rachel had brought with her.

  A wan smile curved her mouth as she remembered Lucas’s initial skepticism about the poetry. He’d listened at first to humor her—he’d have done anything to please her then—and had read to her when she’d asked with halting self-consciousness. But by the end of that day, Rachel had thought Lucas was developing a budding appreciation for the verses she loved.

  That day had been so innocent and romantic, so incredibly perfect that Rachel still got a lump in her throat when she remembered it. At the end of the afternoon, Lucas had told her that he wanted to marry her—as soon as she obtained her degree from Georgia Tech and he earned enough money to support them.

  Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, Rachel leaned against a cold stone wall and gazed through one of the window openings. She was only marginally aware of anything she saw outside the structure; her mind was focused on the memories she’d hoped to exorcise by coming here.

  Twenty feet from where she stood, an outcropping of mossy rock jutted over the sheer drop to the creek below. Rachel drew her jacket more snugly around her, feeling the cold penetrate to her bones.

  Her older brother, Roger, had died in a fall from that very spot, soon after that blissful afternoon.

  Rachel hadn’t been very close to Roger, who’d been a moody, argumentative, difficult young man of twenty-one, but his death had shattered the world as she’d known it at eighteen. She had lost her only sibling. Her mother, Jane, already embittered by the desertion of her husband years earlier, had drawn so far into herself that no one had truly been able to reach her since. And Lucas, the man Rachel had secretly loved, was the prime suspect in Roger’s death.

  Rachel had never been alone with Lucas again. Less than eight weeks after Roger’s death, Lucas was gone, leaving without a word of explanation. Rachel had escaped to college that fall, and before the year was over, her mother, too, had moved away from Honoria and its tragic history.

  Rachel suddenly realized that if she’d hoped to put the past behind her by visiting this place today, she’d wasted her time. The memories were as painfully vivid as ever. It wasn’t hard to imagine Lucas standing in the doorway, watching her with that brooding, hungry look that had always made her tremble in response.

  With a faint sigh, she straightened, ran a hand through her long, dark hair, and turned toward the doorway.

  Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the man standing there, watching her with narrowed, expressionless eyes.

  This sharp-edged, hard-eyed, dangerous-looking man was not the passionate young rebel she’d fallen in love with in this shelter, she thought as she lifted a hand to her pounding heart.

  But she had no doubt that he was Lucas McBride.

  LUCAS THOUGHT he was hallucinating.

  Or dreaming.

  Rachel stood before one of the window openings, bathed in the pale, cool light of the December morning, huddled into a denim jacket that didn’t conceal her willowy slenderness. Her dark, past-shoulder-length hair gleamed in the watery sunlight. He remembered how he’d once loved to bury his face and hands
in it.

  She looked exactly the way he remembered her.

  It was like stepping into the past, and being dealt a blow to the heart.

  And then she turned and looked at him, and he saw that this was no dewy-eyed, shyly eager, naively trusting, eighteen-year-old girl. This was a woman who’d known grief, hurt, betrayal, disappointment. The innocence and eagerness were gone from her dark-chocolate eyes—as, God knew, they were long gone from his own, if they’d ever existed there.

  She was still beautiful.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and a touch of what might have been fear when she saw him. He watched as instant recognition crossed her face. Maybe he hadn’t changed outwardly as much as he’d thought, since Emily and Rachel had both known him so quickly.

  Inwardly—well, his youth had been left in the past, along with his dreams and optimism.

  It appeared Lucas was going to have to be the one to speak since Rachel seemed stunned into silence by his appearance. He thought it was a minor miracle that his voice came out fairly normal.

  “Hello, Rachel.”

  Her mouth moved. No sound emerged.

  He took a step forward. “You are the last person I expected to find here today.”

  If he’d known she would be here, would he still have come? He didn’t like the cowardly way his silent answer made him feel.

  “Lucas?” Her voice was a mere thread of sound.

  He nodded, unable to force a smile. “It’s been a long time.”

  Stupid thing to say, he thought irritably. But nothing else had come to him.

  “Yes.” She lifted a hand to her throat, as if to force strength into her voice. Fine tremors shook her fingers.

  Hell, was she afraid of him?

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of the black leather jacket he wore. “I didn’t know you were in town. I heard you’d moved away.”

  He could almost see the willpower it took for her to regain her composure, to lift her chin and speak clearly and coolly. “It’s my first visit back in a long time. I have family business to attend to. I’m certainly surprised to see you here.”

  He’d left in the middle of the night. Without telling her goodbye. He saw the accusations reflected in her eyes, and he reacted with guilty defensiveness. What had she expected from him? The one time he’d tried to communicate with her after her brother’s death, she’d refused to talk to him.

  Had she wanted him to grovel? Had she expected him to beg her to believe him innocent of everything being said about him in town?

  He had thought she’d known him better than that.

  “I came back to see my sister.”

  Rachel leaned slightly against the stone wall behind her. “I’ve heard Emily is getting married soon.”

  “New Year’s Eve. She’s marrying the new police chief.” Lucas couldn’t quite say that with a straight face; he felt his mouth twist wryly.

  Rachel’s smile was fleeting. “Did you come back to congratulate her or try to talk her out of marrying a cop?”

  “I came back to make sure she’s okay.” It was the truth—just not all the truth.

  “And is she?”

  “She’s fine. She seems happy.”

  “Was she glad to see you?”

  Lucas relived that moment when Emily had thrown herself into his arms, startling him with the genuine warmth of her welcome. “I believe she was.”

  “And how is everyone else reacting to your reappearance?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t seen anyone else. Except you. And I wouldn’t describe your reaction as overjoyed.”

  Rachel looked out the window again. “I don’t know how I’m feeling right now,” she admitted quietly.

  He understand that, since he couldn’t have described his own emotions at the moment.

  Something made him take another step toward her. “Rachel...”

  Losing the thin veneer of bravado she’d assumed before, she flinched.

  Lucas froze.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he asked after a moment, his tone sounding flat, even to his own ears.

  There was a long, taut pause, and then Rachel answered, her eyes downcast. “Yes.”

  Funny. Lucas thought he’d become so cynical during the past fifteen years that no one could ever hurt him again.

  He’d been wrong.

  He moved backward toward the doorway. His voice was gruff when he spoke.

  “In my whole life, there have been only two people I would have died for. My sister is one. You’re the other.”

  He didn’t wait around for her response, but turned abruptly on one booted heel and headed back down the path toward his sister’s house.

  LUCAS HAD BEEN back at the house less than half an hour when he heard Emily’s car in the driveway. She’d promised to be home for lunch. It was straight-up noon when she walked into the house, her arms loaded.

  “I brought food,” she said with a smile. “Chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, fried okra, corn on the cob, biscuits, and peach cobbler for dessert. I remember that used to be your favorite meal. I hope you still like it.”

  It was one of his favorite meals, though one he rarely indulged in. “How could you possibly remember these things?” he demanded. “You were just a little girl when I left.”

  Her smile was both sweet and sad. “I remember everything about you, Lucas. Didn’t you know how much I adored you?”

  He didn’t know what to say. He reached out, instead, to relieve her of the packages. “Where do you want these? Dining room or kitchen?”

  “Kitchen. We can be more comfortable in there. I’ll be in as soon as I put my purse away and wash my hands.”

  Lucas had the table set and the food ready to serve by the time Emily joined him.

  “That was quick,” she said with a smile, reaching for the refrigerator door. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Do you have any tea made up?”

  She pulled out a heavy glass pitcher half-filled with amber liquid. “I always have tea. I’m hooked on it, year-round.”

  “That sounds good.” Watching her pour tea over two glasses of ice, Lucas could smell the chicken and cobbler waiting on the table. His mouth almost watered in anticipation. “It’s great to have a real Southern meal again.”

  “It would be even better in the summertime, if these veggies were fresh-picked and we had a tomato right off the vine to slice on the side, but I figured this would do in a pinch. It came from Cora’s Café—still one of the best eating places in town.”

  “It looks great.” He began to fill his plate.

  “You said it’s good to have a Southern meal again. Where have you been living all this time, Lucas?”

  “California, mostly. Fried okra’s a bit hard to come by there.”

  “California.” She looked a bit dazzled as she dipped her fork into her potatoes. “Do you like it there?”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “What do you do? For a living, I mean.”

  He kept his eyes on his plate. “I’m in computers.”

  “Computers? You’re a programmer?”

  “I’ve developed some software.”

  “Really? That sounds interesting. As I recall, you were fascinated with early video game technology. Your old Atari game is still around here somewhere—in the attic, I think. Do you remember teaching me to play Pac-Man and Space Invaders?”

  “I remember.” She’d sat in his lap in front of the old cabinet TV, her little hand clutching the joystick, her young brow furrowed in concentration.

  “Did you miss me, Lucas?” A little girl’s wistfulness echoed in her voice.

  “Very much.” The simple answer felt so inadequate to describe how much Lucas had missed his little sister, but it seemed to satisfy her.

  “I’m glad.” She nudged the box of chicken closer to him. “Have another piece. I bought plenty.”

  He didn’t need to be urged twice.

  Not visibly discouraged by Lucas�
�s reticence, Emily returned to her questioning, eager to learn more about him. “You never married?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Are you gay?”

  Appalled, Lucas choked and looked quickly up at her. “God, no.”

  She giggled. “Well, that got a reaction out of you, anyway.”

  She looked so much like the mischievous little girl he remembered that Lucas’s chest tightened. “Brat.”

  Her blue eyes warmed, softened. Her smile turned misty. “That’s what you always used to call me when I teased you.”

  “It still fits.”

  “I’m so glad you’re home, Lucas.”

  He couldn’t deal with any more emotion at the moment. He decided to turn the questioning back to her. “Did you tell anyone I’m here?”

  “Did you want me to keep it a secret?”

  He gave her return question a moment’s consideration before answering. “I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone. I simply said I had some business to attend to. Everyone at the bank assumed it was something to do with my wedding, and the people at the café thought I was buying lunch for myself and Wade.”

  He studied her closely. “Why didn’t you tell anyone I’m here?”

  Had it been for his sake, or her own?

  “I suppose I just wanted to keep you to myself for a little while. I thought we’d call Aunt Bobbie and Uncle Caleb later. I know they’ll want to see you.”

  Somewhat doubtfully, Lucas pictured his plainspoken country-lawyer uncle and bossy, schoolteacher aunt. “You think so?”

  “Of course they will. Lucas, they’re your family.”

  Fifteen years on his own had almost made him forget what it was like to be part of a family. “Maybe Caleb and Bobbie will want to see me, but I can’t think of anyone else who’ll turn out to welcome me. I wasn’t exactly the most popular guy in this town.”

  “Martha Godwin would be here in a flash if she heard you’d come back,” Emily murmured, wrinkling her nose.