Beholden

by Pat Warren

  Terry huddled toward the phone, speaking softly. “How are you? I read you were hospitalized again with heart problems.”

  “Me, I’m okay. Just some chest pains, not another heart attack. What about you? Oh, God, I can’t believe it’s really you.” He suddenly remembered. “The accident. Are you fully recovered?”

  “I’m all right.” She paused to swallow, choking with emotion. “Don’t worry about me, Dad, please. I’m okay.”

  John Ryan ran a trembling hand over his thinning brown hair. “Where are you, Theresa Anne?”

  “I’m not sure exactly where, but don’t worry. We’re headed for a safe house. It’s owned by the head man’s family.”

  “He’s with you?”

  “No, I’m with a federal agent who never leaves my side. You know, the Witness Protection Program.”

  “Why? Why did they take you away? If they only knew what it was doing to your mother and me.” His voice broke on a sob.

  “You know why, Dad. I only called to make sure you’re not sick again.”

  “Your mother’s not home. Give me a number where I can call you back. She’ll want to talk to you.”

  Terry felt her heart squeeze. “I can’t, Dad. They don’t know I’m calling. Please, you mustn’t tell anyone or I’ll get in trouble. Please, be patient and I’ll be home. One day soon.” She heard voices in the hallway outside the rest room and realized time was running out. “I have to say good-bye. It’s beginning to snow and we have a two-hour drive ahead of us. Luke wants to beat the storm so we have to get started. I love you, Dad. Please don’t worry.”

  “Wait, Terry. Don’t hang up. Are they treating you all right?”

  “Fine, Dad, really. Good-bye for now.” Hastily, she hung up, struggling to hold back the tears. Taking a deep breath, she moved to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She was patting herself dry with a paper towel when the door swung open.

  The slim blonde from behind the counter stood in the doorway. “Your husband wants to know if you’re all right?”

  Terry nodded. “Yes, thanks.” She followed the woman out into the hallway and found a frowning Luke waiting.

  “Is anything wrong?” he asked, his voice concerned.

  She placed a fist on her stomach. “Cramps, but I feel better now. Ready to go?”

  He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he took her arm, but finally turned and walked her outside. “Don’t scare me like that, will you?”

  “Next time, you’ll have to come in with me,” she said with no small amount of sarcasm as she hopped up into the passenger seat, praying her little performance had fooled him.

  Better. She felt better. Her father was home, he hadn’t had a heart attack. She leaned back as Luke finished loading their supplies, then climbed in.

  He started the engine, still watching her. “You drink too damn much coffee. That’s probably what’s got your stomach all upset.”

  She smiled to herself. “You’re probably right.”

  Less than an hour into their trip, the storm began in earnest. Luke pulled into a gas station and had chains put on the tires, a requirement at the higher altitude when a heavy snowfall was predicted. After that, the four-wheel-drive seemed to barrel through and over even the heavier drifted snow. Visibility was the problem, especially when they left the main highway and started up the mountain, following the map Jones had faxed him.

  “It looks like a picture postcard or a scene out of a movie,” Terry said, gazing up at bare tree limbs balancing snow accumulations.

  “It may look pretty, but it’s damn treacherous to drive in,” Luke commented, his hands tightening on the wheel as they eased around a narrow curve. Unfamiliar roads, darkness and a snowstorm. Not ideal traveling conditions. He turned the windshield wipers on high.

  “I’ve never been out in snow,” Terry confessed.

  “You’re kidding? You mean you never drove up into northern Arizona in the winter? Great ski country.”

  “No, I never went. My brothers used to go and even my sister. But none of my friends ski so I never bothered to learn.”

  He wished he had time to teach her, but he didn’t mention the thought aloud. It would lead to suggesting that he might one day, which would indicate they had a future together. And Luke knew they didn’t.

  His own future was unsettled at the moment. He was uncertain whether he wanted to continue with the marshals service or stay on his ranch and raise horses. His house was paid for, the renovations nearly complete. His needs were few, so he wouldn’t have to make a lot of money. He’d be truly independent, with no one over him telling him what to do and when. Perhaps the time had come to hang it up.

  Still, although he’d been a loner, he’d always been among people. At the ranch, he was truly alone and though he’d preferred it that way so far, would he want that for the rest of his days? He truly hadn’t known anyone he wanted to share that solitary life with.

  Until Terry Ryan came into his life.

  Luke turned the wheel sharply to the right, then around to the left, tensing as he maneuvered a hairpin turn. Suddenly, the road straightened a bit and he relaxed.

  Yes, he could picture Terry on his ranch. In one of their talks, she’d told him she liked horses and rode well. But that would be far from the only requirement. What about that large, loving family she had, the one she missed more each day? She’d want to be with them and he didn’t think he could handle a steady stream of Ryans invading his space.

  And what about his love of danger and excitement, which he rarely admitted out loud, but was astute enough to acknowledge quietly. Being free of the pressure of his work would be a plus, but would he miss the thrills, the satisfaction of a job well done? Would he feel tied down if he wasn’t free to go when he felt the urge, which was the way he’d lived his life for as far back as he could remember?

  He wanted Terry in his life, but he couldn’t imagine checking in constantly with someone, explaining his need to take an occasional job for Jones or maybe just setting out with his truck and Yuma for parts unknown until the need passed. What woman would put up with that?

  Luke downshifted, then glanced over at Terry. In the dim light of the dash, he could see a look of almost childish delight on her face as she peered out at the winter landscape. In many ways, she appeared very young. After all, he was twelve years older than she. But in other ways, she showed a maturity beyond her years.

  And in the bedroom, she matched him superbly, unapologetically making her own demands, then letting him set the pace, open and enthusiastic about each new thing they did together. He didn’t want to lose that rare bonding, but he didn’t know if he was willing to pay the price for keeping it. There were times when he caught her looking at him and knew she was weaving forever dreams around him. He’d have to straighten her out about that and soon. Luke Tanner and forever were distant cousins, not even on speaking terms.

  The van suddenly lurched sideways before Luke got the vehicle under control again. He heard Terry’s quick gasp of fear. “It’s okay. We just hit a slick spot.” To prove his point, he slowed even more and crept around the next bend. “It shouldn’t be too much farther now.” A drive that he’d estimated would last two hours was now well into the third. However, he didn’t dare go any faster.

  “I trust you,” she said, more calmly than she felt. This sort of outing in a snowstorm always looked like more fun in the movies than it was in reality.

  I trust you. Luke hoped her words wouldn’t haunt him.

  The cabin was tucked into the side of the mountain, the snow camouflaging it so well that they nearly drove on past. The yard had a cyclone fence with barbed wire along the top and a heavy iron gate. Standing on the wooden porch after Luke had checked out the interior, Terry shivered. He’d picked up a heavy jacket for her that morning since she’d left her other one behind, but they hadn’t thought to get boots and her Reeboks were wet, her feet cold in the short walk from the parked van.

  “I should have ca
rried you,” Luke commented as he held open the door. “I would have if you’d have waited for me to help you down.”

  He couldn’t seem to understand that she didn’t like sitting like a good girl and waiting until he came to fetch her. “My shoes will dry,” she said, moving inside.

  The interior was comfortably rustic. The large living room had paneled walls, carpeted floor, and a huge stone fireplace. The kitchen was big, too, like a country kitchen, with Mexican tile on the floor and another fireplace, smaller and made of red brick. Both bedrooms were good-sized and they also had fireplaces.

  “Doesn’t this place have a furnace, or do they rely strictly on fireplaces for heat?” she asked as Luke brought in their bags.

  “I’ve never been here before, so I’m not sure.” He put both suitcases in the largest bedroom. “I’ll check it out in a minute.” He went back outside for their supplies.

  “I hope there’s a good supply of wood,” Terry commented as Luke carried bags into the kitchen.

  “There’s a big pile out back. One more trip and we’re moved in.” He left her opening cupboard doors and checking out their contents.

  By the time they explored the place, put everything away, and unpacked their clothes, it was nearly midnight. Luke had found the furnace and although it was a vintage model, it did work. Still, he built a fire in the bedroom because he liked the coziness of it.

  Pomeroy’s Country Store offered more than merely groceries for sale since it was one of the last markets before the turnoff to mountain roads. Clothing, hardware, some automotive supplies, and drugstore items were in a separate section.

  Terry had picked up an old-fashioned, long-sleeved flannel nightgown that she put on after her shower and found that it fell to her ankles. Luke had picked up a black knit cap and matching fur-lined slippers for both of them. Looking at herself in the floor-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door with her short curly hair, the pale blue granny gown and the fuzzy moccasins, she laughed out loud. A real glamour girl, she thought, wondering what Luke would think.

  She felt the flush of guilt when she thought of Luke and the conversation they’d had a short time ago. When they’d finished in the kitchen, he’d walked with her to the bedroom doorway and paused. He wanted them to sleep together in this room, he’d told her, but he didn’t know how she felt, despite last night. He would put her things in the other bedroom if that’s what she wanted.

  There’d been very little interplay between them during the long day’s drive, especially since leaving Pomeroy’s. No soft words, no lingering touches. Terry had been thinking about her father, wondering if she’d done the right thing by phoning. And she felt guilty about deceiving Luke. But she knew she wanted him in her bed. “I want to be with you,” she’d said, looking up at him.

  She’d been surprised by the quick flash of pleasure on his face before he’d pulled her into an openmouthed kiss that told her more than any words could have. Now, leaving the bathroom, Terry again struggled with the guilty knowledge of having gone behind Luke’s back. How could she make love with a man she’d lied to?

  Entering the bedroom and seeing him standing by the blazing fire wearing only his briefs and holding two brandy glasses, she swallowed hard. She prayed he couldn’t read the truth in her eyes. She’d never been a very good actress, even as a child trying to keep small infractions from her parents.

  Luke stared at her, more than a little surprised that she could look sexy in a gown that covered her from neck to ankles. Even from where he stood, he could smell bath powder and the scent of the moisturizing lotion she used. He held out the snifter of amber liquid. “This will warm you.”

  She took it, bringing it up to her nose and inhaling the intoxicating bouquet. As if she needed further warming after seeing him standing nearly naked with the firelight dancing on his bronze skin. “Thank you.” She took a small sip and felt the heat trail downward.

  Luke tasted his. “I called Bob and told him we made it.”

  “Did he have anything new to say?”

  “No, just that he’d keep us informed. I asked him to check on your father’s condition.”

  “Thanks.” She turned away, unable to meet his eyes. She searched for a less disturbing subject. “Did this place once belong to another drug lord or whatever?”

  “Bob never told me and I didn’t ask.” He drained the brandy and set the glass on the mantel. Terry seemed jittery and nervous, and he wondered why. He wondered what he could say to put her at ease. “Your hair’s really looking good.” Three months had brought about a marked improvement. It was still short, of course, but so much better than the wig. “I didn’t know you had curly hair. In the file pictures I saw, it hung straight down to your shoulders.”

  “That’s because I used to blow it dry using a brush to straighten the natural curl. I really don’t like the curly look, but I don’t have much choice right now.”

  “I like it.” He watched her turn aside and give in to a yawn as he eased back. “Tired?”

  “Kind of.” Terry carried her brandy over to the bedside table and set it down. She noticed that he’d removed the spread and turned down the covers. “Oh, look. A feather bed. My grandmother used to have one of these.” Smiling, she stepped out of her moccasins, slipped under the warm coverlet and stretched out. “Ah, this is heaven.”

  Luke joined her, staying on his own side but turning to look at her. “Since you’re tired, I should probably let you get some rest.”

  Enormously relieved that somehow he understood, she let out a relieved breath. “I know I’ll feel better after a good night’s rest.”

  Something was wrong. She had her back to him, as if she didn’t want to look at him. Luke’s mind quickly scrolled back over the brief conversations they’d had during the long drive, but he couldn’t come up with anything that might have upset her. Maybe he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Perhaps she really was just tired. He stretched to kiss the back of her head. “Sleep tight.”

  Curled away from him, Terry felt remorse flood her. He wouldn’t understand if she confessed her call. He wouldn’t accept the fact that she’d simply had to make sure her father was all right. She’d just have to live with her deception. Closing her eyes, she willed sleep to come.

  She’d never been snowed in before, but Terry found she rather liked it. The cabin had everything they needed. It was warm and cozy inside while the snow continued to fall outside fdr two days. Standing at the window watching the wind rearrange the drifts, she smiled. Yes, she could easily go on like this for days, weeks. Marooned high up a mountain and all but buried in snow, inaccessible to outsiders, safe for the time being, at least.

  She turned to watch Luke sitting on the stone hearth whittling and carving still another small animal from the wood he’d brought along. He was quite good really. She’d lined them up on the mantel—a deer, a rabbit, a horse, an elk. He was currently working on an owl.

  She listened to the fire crackling and felt a contentment she was sure she’d never known before. She’d painstakingly pushed her guilt to the back of her mind, convincing herself that no harm had been done and nothing would be accomplished if she confessed. They were getting along well. Why rock the boat?

  Why couldn’t life always be like this? she asked the Fates. With a sigh, she moved back to the plaid couch and picked up her sketch pad. She was doing a pencil drawing of Luke in profile, and this was a good time to catch him unawares as he concentrated on the owl taking shape.

  Since the night she’d shown him the drawing of her father, she’d done dozens of others, mostly political cartoons based on news she’d read in papers she’d picked up along the way. Some she felt were good enough to be published and wished she could send them to the Gazette. But, of course, she knew she couldn’t. So she’d concentrated on other subjects as the mood struck her.

  She’d done several of Luke, but this one was by far her best. It had taken some time to capture the steely strength, yet allow the tendern
ess to show through. Finishing the final few strokes, she held up the pad, trying to view it critically.

  “Can I see?” Luke asked, sitting down beside her on the couch.

  Lost in her art, she hadn’t heard him cross the room. She could refuse, Terry supposed. But she was more than a little curious how he’d view himself seen through her eyes. She handed him the sketch.

  He hadn’t known the drawing was of him and he hadn’t known what a talented hand could do to transform what he considered an ordinary face into one of far greater interest. “You flatter me,” he said, studying the sketch from several angles.

  “That’s how I see you,” she said softly.

  She’d put more than her skill into the drawing, Luke decided. She’d drawn a portrait seen through the eyes of a woman in love. Struggling with the realization, he tried to keep his expression even as he stood. He’d let things get too far, get out of hand. And he had only himself to blame.

  He handed the pad back to her. “Can I have it?”

  Something was wrong. There was a sudden tension about him. “Sure.”

  “Sign it, would you please?”

  She hesitated as he walked away. “You don’t seem as if you like it.” She was at a loss for words.

  “But I do. I want to hang it from the mantel. Maybe there are some thumbtacks in the kitchen.” He left the room.

  Numb with foreboding, Terry signed the drawing and felt like weeping.

  Moments of happiness and feelings of well-being lasted only briefly, it would seem.

  You can’t have everything, not ever, Terry reminded herself. She was in a safe place with a man she’d fallen in love with. But there the fairy tale ended. Luke didn’t love her and probably never would.

  Two days after she’d given him the sketch she’d drawn, she again stood looking out the window at the blanket of snow. It had stopped coming down, but there was plenty piled up and some very high drifts. Earlier, Luke had gone out and cleared the porch and a short path with a shovel he’d found in the storage room. It was a serene, peaceful scene. Yet she didn’t feel serene or peaceful.