Walking on Air

by Catherine Anderson

  That was totally irrational, in Nan’s opinion, and it disturbed her that Gabriel’s usual practical nature had abandoned him. No one could save people from a contagion like this. It swept through a town, hitting here and there like a twister touching down, no rhyme or reason to it. Nan could only pray that no one else died and that she and her loved ones would be spared.

  Her fear was realized when she quietly entered the bedroom. Gabriel sat on the far side of the bed, once again hunched over with his head in his hands, as if the weight of all the world’s sorrows bore down on his shoulders. Nan couldn’t understand why he was reacting this way to something he couldn’t prevent. Perhaps it was because his mother had taken suddenly sick and died as a result. Gabriel might have horrible recollections of another contagion, and this one was dredging up all the old memories.

  As she had last night, she went to sit beside him. When she glanced over, she saw that his whole body was taut with tension. The cuffs of his shirtsleeves, folded back from his wide wrists, were tight over the knotted muscles in his forearms. She rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.

  He jerked and shifted away. “Don’t. I’m not myself right now. Stay away from me.”

  “Gabriel, I don’t under—”

  “You don’t need to understand,” he nearly shouted. “What you need to do is listen to me and stay the hell away from me.”

  Nan froze with her hand inches from touching his shoulder again. A threat laced his tone, and she realized with a start that he was warning her that he might hurt her, which was stuff and nonsense. Nan wasn’t sure when she’d come to trust Gabriel so completely; she only knew that she had.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Gabriel. You’d never harm a hair on my head.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, cozy up, honey, because right now I’m in sore need of something to drown my sorrows in—either whiskey or a woman, I don’t really care which, and you’re closer than the damned saloon.”

  Nan heard his words, but she still felt no fear. She didn’t know what tormented him, but if he needed comfort, she was more than willing to give it. She laid her hand on his shoulder and pressed in with her fingertips. “Whatever is wrong, let me help you. Please?”

  He turned so suddenly to clutch Nan in his arms that her breath hitched in her chest. The next thing she knew, his hot, hungry mouth slanted over hers. For an instant, she recoiled. His embrace vised around her like a crushing band of steel. He traced her teeth with his tongue. She couldn’t get any air. This wasn’t her Gabriel. Her Gabriel was gentle, never taking what wasn’t offered, never even asking.

  But he was asking now. Rigid, her breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest, she made fists over his shirt, fully intending to struggle. Between one heartbeat and the next, though, she forgot why. That hot, melting sensation she’d experienced last night invaded her center again, making that secret place between her legs throb with every pulse beat and go wet. She could have sworn lightning threads were ribboning from the sky to lick at her skin. Gabriel released her only to catch her head between his hands.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered as he pillaged her mouth, tasting and suckling as a starving man might sweet nectar. Between thrusts with his tongue, he said hoarsely, “Don’t . . . say . . . no. Please . . . don’t . . . say . . . no.”

  Nan couldn’t have spoken if she tried, and she didn’t wish to try. Gabriel. Oh, how she’d come to love him—and yearn for him, for this. She wouldn’t have refused him for all the tea in China.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nan was like a fire in Gabe’s blood, and his helplessness to save the life of a little girl fanned the flames. He wanted to tear off Nan’s clothing, shed his own, and lose himself in her, not only once, but again and again, letting himself become so dizzy with desire and passion that he wouldn’t be able to think.

  But, oh, God, she was so incredibly sweet, a precious package that should be carefully unwrapped so as not to damage the ribbons and pretty paper. Though need slammed through him in urgent waves, more intense than he’d felt with any other woman, he tried to gentle his kisses and his touch, nibbling hungrily but persuasively at her lips to teach her the primal dance of tongues that would fan the embers of her ardor, so long banked and buried. He stretched out with her on the coverlet, canopying her slender body with his own, his weight resting on one arm and hip. Feathering light kisses along the curve of her cheek, he found the sensitive hollow under her shell-like ear and traced teasing circles there with his tongue. He had imagined doing this so many times that it seemed as if he’d done it before, only nothing he’d conjured in his mind could compare to the reality. Lavender and silken skin. Tendrils of golden hair that wisped against his jaw like bits of goose down, so soft, so fine, so absolutely feminine. When she moaned and arched her body against him, he nearly lost control.

  But this was Nan, not some woman he’d hired to satisfy his physical needs. Nan, whose laughter had been a prize hard won, whose trust was a priceless gift, and whose innocence humbled him. She caught his face between her slender hands and angled her head to settle her mouth over his, flicking shyly at his lips with the tip of her tongue. Need knotted in his groin, the ache spreading upward. His manhood throbbed and pushed against the fly of his jeans.

  In between kisses, she whispered, “I love you, Gabriel. I love you so very much.” She sighed into his mouth, her breath honey sweet. “I shall thank God every day for the rest of my life for bringing you to me.”

  “I love you, too,” he whispered back, his voice thick with desire. “Oh, God, sweetheart, I love you, too.”

  As Gabe uttered the words, they slithered through his mind like venomous snakes, sinking their fangs into his conscience and releasing their poison. He froze above her, his breath coming in tortured, ragged gasps. He loved her. This wasn’t mere fondness that he felt. He’d fallen completely and irrevocably in love with this gentle, wonderful woman, and now he was about to betray her trust by taking the gift of her body when a monstrous lie and a web of deceit hung between them.

  He jerked away from her, filled with self-loathing. She wouldn’t thank God every day for the rest of her life. On Friday at dawn, he was going to die and leave her, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing within his power to change that. He could hold her and cherish her and protect her for only three more days.

  Gabe sprang from the bed, caught his balance, and stared at her, his aching lungs grabbing for breaths that couldn’t breach the clench of his throat. Nan stirred and blinked up at him in bewilderment.

  “Gabriel?” She stretched a hand toward him. “What is it? Come back to me. Whatever I did, I—I’ll not d-do it again.”

  “It’s not you,” he rasped, thrusting his hands into his hair and making hard fists, glad of the pain, because he hoped it would clear his head. His throat felt as if it were being vised by a hangman’s noose. “I . . . can’t . . . do . . . this,” he squeezed out. And then, as if driven by a demon within him, he threw back his head and screamed the words. “I can’t do this, damn you!” He heard Nan’s frightened gasp and saw her recoil as words boiled past his lips. “I won’t do this! It’s a bargain with the devil I’ve made! Do you hear me! I’m done with it!”

  A jolt shot through Nan’s body as Gabriel left the room and slammed the door behind him. The portal hit its frame with such force the walls vibrated. She heard his feet pounding down the stairs. Breathing fast, her body still thrumming with yearning, she sat up slowly, so astounded—no, stunned—that her brain felt frozen. Then the reality of the situation slowly sank in. She’d just offered herself to the man she loved, and he’d turned her down flat.

  Nan didn’t cry. The pain that lacerated her chest ran so deep it made her bones ache. Gabriel. She hugged her arms around her waist and slowly started to rock, so tortured with myriad emotions—pain, bewilderment, and a sick sense of rejection—that she wanted to scream, but she had no voice. The silen
ce of the room, broken only by the incessant ticking of the alarm clock, pounded against her ears. Her eyes remained dry, burning in their sockets like smoldering coals. Love, she realized, wasn’t always a priceless gift; sometimes it was a person’s worst agony.

  • • •

  Gabe went to the livery, threw a saddle on Brownie, and sent the horse down the silent street at breakneck speed to get out of Random. He didn’t know where he meant to go, just that he needed to escape. The hard blowing of the gelding finally forced Gabe to slow the pace to a walk, and then, his head so muddled he couldn’t reason past the tangle of his thoughts, only lifelong habit made him continue at that speed to cool down his mount.

  When Brownie’s lathered neck finally dried, Gabe drew the horse to a stop and swung down from the saddle. He left the gelding’s reins to dangle, not really caring if the horse spooked and ran. Not that Brownie would ever hare off and leave. Over the last ten years, the equine had been Gabe’s only true friend, ever faithful, never faltering.

  This far from town, beyond even the farms that skirted the community, Gabe knew he could scream at the top of his lungs and be heard by only the horse and wild critters. And that was precisely what he did—scream. The immeasurable anger that churned within him was impossible to contain, and the worst part of all was that Gabe didn’t know for sure with whom he was most furious, the angels or himself.

  “I’m finished!” He yelled the words with such rage that the tendons along his throat stung. “The deal is off!” When he heard no response, he doubled his fist and punched at the darkening sky. “I was a fool to agree to your terms in the first place! I’m not saving Nan! I’m destroying her! Breaking her heart! Ruining her life!” Heaving for breath, Gabe stood with his feet spread and his head hanging back to glare at the sky. Brownie cocked his ears at his master. Gabe ignored the horse’s mildly astonished expression. “Gabriel! Do you hear me?” he roared. “Dammit, answer me! To hell with my mission! I quit! I don’t care! Just do like you said you would if I mucked this up and erase her memory! Now! She’s hurting! Do you understand that?” He stared wildly around to see if the angel was going to materialize but saw only a startled-looking prairie dog peering cautiously at him, his head and forepaws poked out of his hole. Somehow that made him even madder. He’d never liked being ignored, even by an angel.

  “You listen to me, dammit, Gabriel! I let her fall in love with a lie! I set her up to break her heart! She believed it could be forever, that if she let herself care, I’d always be there for her! But that’s not the way of it. I don’t have a lifetime to give her, only three miserable days!”

  Silence answered him. The prairie dog vanished. The gloaming began to deepen, and Gabe started to panic. Where the hell was Gabriel? Why wasn’t he at least answering? Gabe didn’t care if all the fury of heaven rained down on him; he was reneging on the deal, finished, done.

  Exhaustion finally drove him toward a boulder, where he sat and hung his head. He’d yelled himself out. Darkness settled over the rolling, grassy landscape, making Gabe feel like a tiny speck in its vastness. His throat felt raw. The bite of the wind cut through his shirt, chilling him to the bone. Soon not even a star winked to brighten the darkness. Brownie came to nuzzle at his shoulder, his warm breath somehow making Gabe feel less alone. He hugged the horse’s silky neck, pressing his cheek against the animal’s solid reality. The gelding chuffed, gave Gabe a gentle bump, and moved away.

  “I don’t understand,” Gabe whispered. “Why’d you send me here? Why? A second chance, you told me.” He searched the endless expanse of sky. “I was supposed to get it all right this time. Only, the truth of it is, by following your damned rules, all I did was make the same mistakes all over again. Guard my own back, save my own ass; those were always my mottoes. And that hasn’t changed. It’s still all about saving myself.”

  Gabe listened to the low moan of the night wind, the swishing whispers of countless blades of grass, the faint grinding sound of Brownie’s jaws as he snatched a few mouthfuls of prairie grass. The horse’s teeth clanked slightly against the bit as he chewed. And then a truly horrible thought struck Gabe: What if he had imagined it all? What if he’d never taken that predawn walk up Main and been shot dead? What if Pete Raintree didn’t even exist? That first morning, Gabe had toyed with the idea that he might have had too many whiskeys the prior night and somehow injured his head. Only the angel Gabriel’s rebuttal on the boardwalk in front of the hotel had driven that suspicion from Gabe’s mind.

  But what if the angel hadn’t been real? What if everything Gabe believed he’d experienced had never happened? Was his mind playing tricks on him?

  No, no. That couldn’t be right, Gabe assured himself. He couldn’t have conjured up all those details about Nan’s past without help. He’d known too much, things no one could possibly learn, not even if he hired the best agents available and had them investigate Nan for years. Gabe recalled the scenes he’d witnessed through the parting of the clouds, and he knew, way deep inside, that he couldn’t have dreamed all those details. In person, he’d never yet seen Nan half-dressed, but he was willing to bet she had a dark little freckle or mole on the swell of her right breast.

  He slowly released a weary breath. Clearly neither angel planned to communicate with him. Why, he couldn’t imagine. He’d just scotched the bargain, and now, unless they reined him in, he would, in a sense, be like a runaway horse, unpredictable and without direction. Maybe he’d automatically damned himself through both his actions and his screaming that the deal was off. He’d certainly yelled loud enough for his words to echo for miles.

  So be it. Gabe pushed up from the rock, stood gazing at the sky for several seconds to give his celestial mentors a final chance to speak, and then strode to his horse. Fine, he thought as he swung back into the saddle. Leave me to muddle through on my own. If that’s your plan, then I’m doing this my way from here on out. And I’m starting with Nan. Even if she doesn’t believe me and thinks I’m crazy, I’m telling her the truth, every last bit of it.

  As Gabe rode toward Random, at a much slower pace this time, he wondered if Nan would even know him now. The angels had promised that they’d erase her memory if he messed up. And he’d sure as hell messed up. She was not supposed to be hurt. The thought that Nan might not recognize him stabbed Gabe’s heart. But, hey, it wasn’t as if he could offer her anything. Three lousy days. In a way, he’d be relieved—at least for her—if she remembered nothing about him.

  Now he had to figure out how to approach her so that if she knew him, he wouldn’t ram his boot into his mouth any farther than he already had, but not scare the crap out of her if her memory had been erased. Great choices here, Gabriel. Gabe hoped the angels were having themselves a good laugh.

  • • •

  When Nan grew upset, she worked. It was her way of escaping—losing herself in a project, finding calm in the mindless rhythm of simply doing, and blocking out whatever pained her. From long habit, she had done that this evening, seeking refuge in her project room downstairs. She had three hats in progress, and the dratted gown for Geneva. She couldn’t face that hideous gown tonight, so she gravitated toward a particularly challenging hat, which begged for something—a different angle with the arrangement, a focal point of color, or perhaps a complete new start.

  Normally, growing immersed in her work lulled Nan into a numb state, compartmentalizing her mind so that her emotions were tucked neatly away in a corner. Not tonight. Her husband’s eyes, the memory of those burning kisses, the feel of his arms crushing her close, refused to be dislodged by bits of millinery. She stabbed her fingertip with a pin and bled on a flower. The appearance of the hat frustrated her so much that she ended up tearing everything off it. And then, after fussing with it for well over two more hours, she finally gave up.

  What she needed was a good long cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. She recalled hearing or reading that some heartbreak ran
too deep for tears. And the pain she felt over Gabriel ran very deep. She’d sworn never to love a man, and fool that she was, she’d gone and done it anyway. If she lived to be a very old woman, she would never forget the humiliation she’d felt when he sprang away from her. Just deserts. Any woman who lost her heart to a man was asking for grief. Now she had to pick up the pieces, glue them back together, and move forward. If she couldn’t do it for herself, she had to do it for Laney.

  With a start, she remembered that the boy and dog hadn’t yet been fed. Dark and late though it now was, she couldn’t leave them to go hungry all night. Glad to have something, anything, to distract her from thoughts of Gabriel, she rushed upstairs, rifled through the icebox, and found enough leftover food to fill both of their bellies. Champion. This way, she wouldn’t have to cook when the mere thought of eating made her stomach clench. She prepared sandwiches for the boy, filled a bottle with milk, and tossed what remained into the pail.

  When she stepped from her shop, a rush of uneasiness came over her. A lady should never walk about town unescorted after dark. It could be dangerous, especially near the saloon. Stuff and nonsense. She would make fast work of delivering a meal to the boy and be gone in a blink. If some drunk did start down the brothel stairway, she’d be out of sight before he ever gained the walkway. As for going out behind Lizzy’s, Nan thought that would be safe enough. No miscreant was likely to be sharing the lean-to with a dog.

  Hurrying through the night, Nan swiftly executed her acts of kindness and made her way back to the shop. She half expected to find Gabriel there when she stepped inside. He’d left his personal effects and would have to return at some point to fetch them. He was a decisive individual, and it would be just like him to waste no time in coming. Somehow, though, she knew the moment she stepped into the building that her husband wasn’t there. Gabriel had a way of filling the very air with his presence, and Nan’s senses always picked up on that.