Marjorie Hanke turned out the lights at eleven. Collin still felt wide-awake, so he got up and went outside to sit on the steps under the sliver of moon.
What do you know? He wasn’t out there five minutes before Buster was nudging up against him on one side and Willa was dropping to the steps on the other.
He almost teased her about how he wasn’t having sex with her. But no. Sex seemed a little dangerous to speak of now, something he couldn’t afford to joke about.
And then she kind of leaned against him and said, “Aren’t you going to tell me to keep my hot little hands to myself?”
There was nothing he would like better than her hot little hands all over him. However, that was not going to happen, as he knew damn well and kept constantly reminding himself.
He kept it light, meeting her eyes, teasing, “I know I can count on you to do the right thing.”
She didn’t reply. There was one of those moments. They looked at each other and neither looked away. He would only have to lean in a few inches to capture that mouth of hers, to feel her lips against his.
Finally.
At last.
But he didn’t. Apparently, he had some small amount of self-control left.
He thought of the boyfriend, the one who had asked her to marry him. He reminded himself that it was only an accident of fate that had her sitting next to him on the town hall steps at a quarter of midnight on July 6. And somehow, he managed to turn his head and stare at the moon again.
She said, very softly, “Remember when we were kids? You used to spy on me....”
He chuckled. “I had a lot of free time on my hands. And I never thought of it as spying.”
“You would watch me when I had no idea you were there. That’s spying, Collin Traub. I would look up—and there you would be, staring at me.”
He gave her a grin. “You’re getting mad about it all over again.”
She frowned—and then her brow smoothed out. “You’re right. I am. And that’s silly. It was years ago. It’s like that night at the Ace in the Hole. Better to just let it go.” She tipped her head sideways and studied him. “You were so different from your brothers....”
“Yeah, well. My mom was tired when I came along. She had five boys already. Boys are exhausting. They need discipline and supervision. Mom did a good job of that with the rest of them. But she kind of gave up on me. I ran wild.”
“I remember,” she said wryly.
He elaborated with some pride, “I broke every rule and climbed every fence and spied on you when I knew it would freak you out. I also used to like to tease the bulls.”
“Well, that’s just plain asking for it.”
“Yeah, it is. I guess I had an angel on my shoulder, though. Because somehow, every time I got in the pasture with one of the bulls and danced around shouting and waving my arms, I managed to jump the fence before I got gored.”
She was shaking her head. “What were you thinking?”
“That it was fun! I mean, I liked it, being known as big trouble just waiting to happen. I got blamed for everything, sometimes for things I didn’t even do. And it kind of got to be a point of pride for me that not a day went by I didn’t get grief for some crazy, dumb-ass behavior or other.”
She was looking at him again, her eyes shining brighter than the stars in the clear night sky overhead. “So you became known as the family troublemaker, the one no one could ever depend on.”
“Because I am the family troublemaker that no one could depend on.”
“But you’re not,” she argued. “Just look at you lately, standing up for what’s right in the town meeting, getting a couple of kids to make sure the mayor’s car was towed off Main Street the day after he died, saving Barton Derby from under the wreckage of his barn....”
“My team saved Bart Derby, the mayor’s car was not a big thing—and you stood up in that meeting, too.”
“What about rescuing me when I would have drowned, and then looking after me during the storm? And what about afterwards, too? What about today, at my house, when you held me while I cried and promised me it was going to be all right?”
“It was what you needed to hear right then.”
“Exactly. Honestly, Collin. I don’t know what I would have done without you since the flood.” She’d better stop looking at him like that. If she didn’t, well, he was going to grab her and plant one on her.
“Don’t make a big thing out of it, okay?” he heard himself mutter.
“But it is a big thing.”
“No, it’s not....”
“Yes, it is!” She got that bossy schoolteacher look. “And that does it. I’m not sitting still while you minimize all the good you’ve done. I’m going to tell you how I see it.”
“Uh-oh.”
“You listen to me, now....”
He tried not to groan. “What will you do if I don’t?”
She put her hand on his arm, apparently to hold him there by force. He felt that touch from the top of his head to the tips of his toes—and everywhere in between. “You are a born leader, Collin. This town is going to need a new mayor and I keep thinking that you could be the right man for that job.”
Mayor? She thought he should be mayor? He couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and laughed out loud. “Willa, okay. We’re friends now and everything. But you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, yes, I do. I am onto you, in a big way.”
He grunted. “No, you’re not. You’re making something out of nothing.”
She pursed up her mouth at him. “When you’re finished blowing me off, you just tell me. And then I will share my insights with you.”
There were a whole bunch of sarcastic comebacks to that one. But for some unknown reason, he didn’t use any of them. Probably because he did kind of want to hear what she had to say. “Okay, fair enough. Hit me with it.”
“I will. Ahem. So you grew up a wild child, undependable. And as it so often happens in a small town like ours, people get it in their heads what a person is like and that’s it, that’s just the way it is. No one ever thinks to look at that person differently, to take a chance on depending on him, to expect more than misbehavior. There’s a local perception and no one ever tests it. The perception becomes the reality.”
“Took psychology at UI, did you, Willa?”
She gave him her sweetest smile. “And I’m not even at the good part yet.... Where was I? Oh, yes. So in the meantime, you’re keeping busy fulfilling everyone’s low expectations of you. And, as you said yourself, you find that not having anyone expect much of you is actually kind of fun. Because you can do what you want. You’re not stuck like all your brothers, bearing up under the weight of everyone’s high estimation of your sterling character. You actually have the freedom to live exactly as you please and you never have to worry about letting anyone down.”
He could easily become annoyed with her. “Think you got me all figured out, don’t you, Willa?”
She didn’t back off. “To a degree, yes. You are adventurous and bold, with no desire to settle down. So naturally, in your teens, you become the town heartbreaker. You do a lot of experimenting with women. Because, as you said, it’s fun.”
He’d heard about enough. “Come on. You’re getting into dangerous territory here. You know that, right? Next you’ll be digging up that night at the Ace again, getting all up in my face for not taking you up on what you were offering.”
She put her hand on his arm again. He wanted to jerk away—and also to grab her and kiss her senseless. “No. Honestly. I’m over that.” And then she smiled. So sweet and open, that smile. He realized that he definitely wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to get away from her. “Even if I am probably the only woman you ever turned down.”
He al
most told her that wasn’t true, but then she’d just say he was bragging. “Seriously. Where are you going with this?”
She tipped her head to the side, frowning a little the way she did when she was thinking something over. “Hmm. I guess I’m just trying to make you see that being defined by other people’s low expectations of you isn’t really working for you anymore.”
“And you know this, how?”
“I’m not blind, you know. I’ve been around you a lot the past few days. And what has been a tragedy for Rust Creek Falls has brought out the best in you. After all that’s happened and all the good you’ve done—all the good you will do in the coming days, you’re not going to be able to go back.”
“Go back where?”
“To the way things were before the levee broke.”
“Believe it or not, I happen to like the way things were.”
“Maybe you did. Before. But it won’t be enough for you now.”
“You have no idea what’s enough for me, Willa.” He ached to reach for her. Reach for her and pull her close and kiss her until her head spun and she let him do whatever he wanted with her, until he finally got a taste of what she’d been tempting him with since before he was even old enough to know what temptation was.
She just wouldn’t stop. “You’ve started to expect more of yourself and that is a wonderful thing. Why can’t you admit that?”
It was the tipping point. He couldn’t stop himself. He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders good and tight. And then he growled at her with all the frustrated heat and hunger he was trying so hard to deny. “I don’t need you telling me how I feel or where I’m going.”
She blinked at him and her big eyes got bigger and her mouth looked so soft and surprised he only wanted to cover it with his and stick his tongue inside. “But, Collin. I was only—”
“Don’t, all right? Just don’t.” With great care, he straightened his arms, pushing her away from him. Then he let her go.
“Collin, I...”
He stood up. That was pretty damn stupid. He was as hard as a teenage kid caught thumbing through Playboy. All she had to do was look and she would see it.
Too bad. He wasn’t hanging around to watch her reaction. He mounted the top step, hauled the door wide and went in, pulling it firmly shut behind him.
Chapter Seven
Willa had trouble getting to sleep that night. She felt awful. She knew that she’d gone too far. Yes, she did honestly believe she’d only told Collin the truth about himself.
And really, not a thing she’d said to him had been bad. Some men wouldn’t mind being called a born leader. Some men would be pleased to hear how wonderful they were.
But not Collin, apparently.
And all right, well, maybe she’d laid it on a bit heavy. She’d turned her inner schoolmarm loose on him—and not the good, patient, understanding and gentle schoolmarm.
The other one. The bossy one who knew what was good for you and was bound to tell you all about yourself whether you wanted to hear it or not.
Had she wrecked their new friendship?
Oh, she did hope not. Because she really, really liked being his friend. She liked it more than she should, probably. With a guy like Collin, well, a girl could get really confused as to where she stood with him.
On the floor by her cot, Buster whined in his sleep. She reached her hand down to him, ran her fingers over the smooth, warm crown of his big head. He woke enough to press his wet nose against her palm and then settled back to sleep with a sweet chuffing sound.
She thought of all the good things Collin had done for her since the flood, of the way he’d held her that afternoon, so tenderly, so kindly, in the muddy ruin that had once been her home.
No. He was a real friend to her now. Too good a friend for her to lose him just because she’d presumed to lecture him about his life.
In the morning, she would apologize. And everything would be all right.
* * *
He wasn’t there for the community breakfast in the morning and he didn’t come to the church service after the meal.
Willa sat with Paige and wished he was there. She worried that he wasn’t there because she had pushed his buttons and made it necessary, somehow, for him to prove what a tough, bad guy he was—too bad to show up for Sunday services and give Willa a chance to say she was sorry.
The choir sang of sweet comfort and the pastor quoted inspirational sections of scripture, verses meant to be uplifting in hard times. He gave a sermon on sacrifice and the meaning of community. He talked about how the Lord was with them and that each and every one of them was proving their worth and their goodness by their deeds in this time of trial.
And finally, when the sermon was over, Pastor Alderson led them in a prayer for Mayor McGee and the service became a farewell for Thelma’s only son.
People stepped up with vases full of flowers, picked wild or from their own gardens. The choir sang the songs that Hunter had liked best, a couple of country-and-western love songs, “Red River Valley,” a Bob Dylan ballad and some other songs Willa hadn’t heard before.
It was during one of those other songs that she sensed movement at the end of the pew. She glanced that way.
Collin.
He wore clean jeans and a white shirt and his face was smooth from a recent shave. Had he made it up to his house on the mountain, then? He caught her eye, just for a moment. He didn’t smile. But he wasn’t scowling, either. She could have stared at him forever.
But she didn’t. She forced her eyes front again while he made his way along the pew toward her. He muttered soft apologies as their neighbors slid their legs to the side, giving room for him to pass. Shelby Jenkins, a friend who sometimes worked as a substitute teacher at the elementary school, was sitting on her left.
She heard Collin whisper, “S’cuse me, Shelby...”
Shelby slid over and he took the empty space next to Willa. He smelled of soap and aftershave and her heart just lifted up when he settled in beside her. She couldn’t even look at him right then, there were so many strange and powerful emotions chasing themselves around inside her. She had a dopey smile on her face, she just knew it, a totally inappropriate expression for a funeral.
He did that thing—that thing they’d started when they sat out on the town hall steps in the evening—leaning to the side in her direction, nudging her so gently with his shoulder.
She had to press her lips together to keep from letting out a silly squeak of pure joy. Because he wasn’t all that mad at her, after all, evidently.
Because now she knew that everything between them would be all right.
The service continued. Pastor Alderson invited folks to stand and a say a word or two, to speak their testimony on the life of Hunter McGee.
In the front pew, Thelma stood first. Her voice only shook a little as she spoke of how proud she was to be Hunter’s mom, as she told a little story about his boyhood, about his dreams for Rust Creek Falls, about how his one true love had died too young and he’d never known the joy of fatherhood, but he had loved Rust Creek Falls. It had meant the world to him that the people of his town had elected him their mayor.
When Thelma was finished, others stood, one at a time, taking turns, telling about growing up with Hunter, about the many ways that he’d helped them or made their lives richer, somehow. Each of the town council members took a turn, with Nathan Crawford going first. Willa had thought she might speak, but then it turned out that the things she would have shared were already said. She felt content to let it be.
The testimonies went on for over an hour. Until finally, one of the older Daltons sat back down after speaking of how Hunter had pitched in to help repair the Masonic Hall. There was a silence in the chapel. Willa thought that the sharing was done.
But then Collin shifted at her side. She blinked and looked over at him as he rose to his feet. He looked a little nervous, she thought, and so very handsome and dear.
Everyone turned and watched him expectantly. As a rule, Collin Traub didn’t speak out in public, but Willa knew they all had to be remembering his impassioned arguments in the town hall the other day and eager to hear whatever he might contribute now.
Collin cleared his throat. “I just want to say that Hunter McGee was a man we all thought of as a friend. He had a way about him. He was wise and he was patient, too. But he had a killer sense of humor and that gleam in his eye that let you know he didn’t judge you and he wanted only the best for you, no matter how big a troublemaker you might happen to be.” Collin paused then, and glanced around with an abashed sort of expression.
People grinned and a few even chuckled.
Collin continued, “Somehow, Hunter always managed to get to the heart of an issue without ever choosing sides. He had a rare sort of fairness in him and a willingness to help. Yes, he’s gone to a better place now. But at the same time, it seems to me that he’s still here with us in spirit, that he’s working beside us now, in this tough time when we need men like him the most. We haven’t really lost him.” Collin fisted his hand and laid it against his heart. “He’s right here.” He raised his hand and touched his temple. “And he’s in here, too, in all of us. We can remember all he showed us about how to live and work together. And we can be grateful that we have his fine example to carry us forward as we work side by side to rebuild this town.”
Collin sat back down.
There was a silence. Somebody murmured, “Oh, yeah.”
And someone else said, “Tell it, Collin.”
Several more “Oh, yeahs” and one or two “Praise Gods” followed.
Collin turned and looked at Willa, which was when she realized she was staring at him. He gave her a scowl, mouthed, What?
Marooned with the Maverick Page 9
