Rain Dance

by Rebecca Daniels

  He took another drink, finishing the bottle and tossing it onto the porch beside him. He leaned his head back against the post, following the headlights of a car in the distance as it made their way down Main Street and on to the highway, and felt the warmth from the alcohol seep through his system.

  He hadn’t gone to the hospital to see her, at least that’s what he told himself. He’d told himself he’d gone there to talk to Cruz, to try to clarify some details and clear up a few questions he had about her injuries. But the truth of the matter was, a telephone call could have taken care of any questions he’d had. The truth of the matter was, he’d gone there hoping to see her.

  He’d sat at Gracie’s computer, laboriously typing in Rain’s description in the e-mails and wanting to see her again, wanting to see if her eyes were as blue as he’d remembered, if her skin really did look as soft and as silky as he’d remembered.

  He’d stood in the corridor outside her room trying to think of an excuse to go inside. It was only luck that he’d heard her calling out—if you could call a nightmare luck. But then, once he’d heard her cry, he hadn’t been thinking about excuses. He’d been in the room and by her side before he’d had a chance to think at all.

  He watched as the headlights slowly made their way down the highway. It was a lonely sight, two small specks of light in the blackness of the desert.

  He’d grown up in the desert. It was part of him, part of his people and their past. It was their home, their church and where their legends began. He’d joined the navy wanting to get away from the desert, wanting to be on the water and away from arid landscape and grueling heat. Only, during his five-year stint aboard the aircraft carrier Dakota, all he could think about was getting back, back to the land that was a part of him.

  His thoughts drifted back to Rain and he felt something tighten in his chest. Still, the desert could be a scary place, especially when you’re lost and alone. He tried to think about how it must have been for her, waking up not knowing where she was or who she was. She’d lost more than her way in the desert, she’d lost herself as well. She’d been left with nothing to rely on, no one to turn to, nowhere to go.

  And yet she’d fought back. It would have been easy to have just given up, to have simply given in to the elements and let them get the best of her, but she hadn’t done that. It had taken courage to do what she had done, to strike out her own way, letting instinct and a will to survive guide her.

  He reached for another bottle. The woman had guts, he had to give her that. He’d seen that courage today in the hospital. It was obvious she had been terrified by that nightmare, but she hadn’t collapsed against him frantic and hysterical. Instead she had sucked it in; she’d bested the fear until she’d regained control and composure. In his line of work, he’d seen people fall apart at a lot less than what she’d been through, so maybe it wasn’t so unusual that he found himself admiring her.

  But admiration was one thing; offering the woman a room in his house was something else entirely.

  Twisting the cap free, he tossed it onto the step beside the first one and took a drink. There had been women in his life since his divorce, but he didn’t bring them to his house and he had no idea what had possessed him to do it now. Granted, with five big bedrooms, a living room, a den, a dining room, a breakfast nook and a loft, it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford the space. But this was his home, his castle, the place he came to get away from work, not bring it home with him.

  His rustic ranch house and the five thousand acres of high desert land surrounding it had been a dream for as far back as he could remember. He’d saved every dime he could during his tour of duty to scrape enough together for a down payment. When he’d met Karen, he told her about his dream and had believed her when she’d said she’d wanted to make it her dream, too, that she wanted to help him raise purebred mustangs and share his life on the ranch.

  The beer felt cool going down and he took another long drink. Leaning back, he watched the headlights as they turned off the highway and onto a side road. What a fool he’d been, thinking someone like Karen would be content with life on a ranch in Nevada. But he’d been so taken with her, he hadn’t wanted to examine her motives too closely. Otherwise he would have seen that they’d had nothing in common, would have realized their relationship was doomed from the beginning.

  Karen had been the only child of a navy admiral who had pampered and indulged his “little princess” her entire life. Her childhood had been so different from his own. Except for the navy, all he’d ever known was the poverty and privation of reservation life. Yet he’d been foolish enough to think love could bridge any gap—and who knows, maybe love could. The only problem was, Karen hadn’t loved him.

  It wasn’t until after the wedding, after his discharge from the navy, and after the move back to Mesa Ridge that he discovered Karen was carrying a child—another man’s child. Of course, he only had himself to blame. He’d been so swept away, so amazed that the admiral’s daughter had wanted him, he hadn’t stopped to question her motives or wonder why. He hadn’t wanted to look beyond the immediate, hadn’t wanted to question why she wanted him—but after their marriage it soon became painfully obvious. What Karen had wanted was a father for her child and a convenient marriage to help her save face with her family and friends.

  He sat up, his interest inching up a degree as he watched the headlights in the darkness turn off the road and onto the drive toward his place. But even as he watched the lights draw closer, his thoughts drifted back to Karen, to the marriage he’d tried so hard to save. Even after he’d learned about the baby, he’d tried to make it work, tried to put his feelings aside for the sake of the baby she carried. But when the infant died in childbirth, things grew worse. Karen fell into a deep depression, hating everything about Mesa Ridge, and everything about him.

  Taking another drink from the bottle, he swallowed hard. He could still hear her angry insults, still hear her shouting at the top of her lungs, calling him a “dirty Indian.” But all that was history now. Karen was gone, the marriage was over and they both had gone on with their lives. If he bore a few scars in his reluctance to trust or to try again, then so be it. His life was comfortable, his job stimulating and his ranch all the excitement he would ever need.

  The car turned up the gravel drive, slowing to a stop in front of the house. He knew the car, and the driver, and raised a hand in greeting as Cruz stepped out and started up the drive toward the porch.

  “Got a little more of that firewater there, Chief?”

  Joe picked up a bottle from the six-pack and tossed it to Cruz. “Making a house call, Doc?”

  Cruz sat down on the top step opposite him, twisting the cap off the bottle. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

  “I’m feeling fine.” He raised his beer in a toast. “And after a few more of these, I’m going to be even better.”

  Cruz smiled, tossing the cap onto the step with the others. “We’ll see how good you feel in the morning.”

  Joe finished his beer and stopped as he reached for another. “You’ve got a point there.”

  “And if I’m not mistaken, I believe you made a promise to be at the hospital bright and early in the morning.”

  Joe groaned. He hadn’t forgotten, but the reminder was almost enough to have him reaching for another beer—almost. Tomorrow was going to be difficult enough to get through without having to deal with a hangover, too. For some reason, the mysterious Rain had a way of making him do things he normally wouldn’t even think of doing and he was going to need a clear head to make sure it didn’t happen again.

  “Not to worry, Doc, I’ll be there—bright and early.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried,” Cruz said, taking a drink of his beer. Swallowing, he turned, nodding toward the inside of the house. “All ready for a houseguest?”

  Joe thought about the new linens he’d bought on his way home and the food he’d stocked in the refrigerator. “Pretty much.”

 
“That was very generous of you,” Cruz said, turning back to him. “Offering to take her in and all.”

  Joe shrugged. He and Cruz had been friends for a long time and Cruz knew better than anyone just how unusual it was for him to invite a woman home.

  “She had nowhere to go and there’s no telling where she would have ended up if County Services had gotten involved.” He rolled the empty beer bottle back and forth between the palms of his hands. “God knows I’ve got plenty of room.”

  Cruz nodded, taking another drink. “I know, I was concerned about calling in the county, too. I’d even thought of talking to Marcy about maybe having her come stay at our place for a few days.”

  Joe let his head fall back against the rail post. If he’d only kept his mouth shut, if he hadn’t leapt in without so much as a second thought, he wouldn’t be in the situation he was now.

  Mesa Ridge might be a small town, but it had a heart of gold. Word about her would have spread. Even if she’d had to spend a night or two in a county holding facility, somebody would have eventually come forward to help—someone other than him. Instead, he’d jumped the gun. He’d taken one look at that lost, vulnerable face of hers and like the cavalry riding over the hill, he’d come running to the rescue.

  “Well, maybe she’d prefer that,” Joe suggested, getting his hopes up. Maybe it wasn’t too late to wiggle out of this after all. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Cruz shook his head. “I don’t think so. With Marcy trying that change of venue case up in Carson City and gone all the time, it might be a little uncomfortable. Marcy and I adore our little daughter but you know what a chatterbox Annie can be. She would have driven the poor woman to distraction.” Cruz took another swig of beer, wincing as it went down. “I think she’d probably like it a whole lot better here. It’s quieter and more private. The poor thing needs her rest.”

  Joe sighed, and leaned his head back against the post. It had been worth a try.

  “Like I said,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’ve got plenty of room.”

  Cruz turned and looked at him, pausing for a moment. “I have to admit I was a little surprised when you offered. It does seem a little unusual for you.”

  “You sayin’ I’m not a nice guy?” Joe joked. He knew exactly what Cruz was alluding to.

  “You’re nice enough I suppose,” Cruz conceded. “Just not normally so involved.” He finished his beer. “It’s a little unusual for you, don’t you think?”

  Joe took a deep breath. Unusual was putting it mildly.

  “Maybe,” he shrugged, turning to look at the lights of Mesa Ridge once again. “But then it’s a little unusual to have someone wander out of the desert who doesn’t remember her name or how she got there.”

  “You’re right about that,” Cruz conceded, taking another drink of beer.

  “And with someone so helpless, it’s hard not to want to help.”

  Cruz leaned his head back and looked at the lights as well. “I don’t know. I have a feeling most men would like to help that woman even under normal circumstances.”

  The flash of jealousy that twisted in Joe’s stomach was as out of place as it was unexpected. “Aren’t you forgetting you’re a respectfully married man?”

  “Decidedly and joyfully married,” Cruz corrected with a smug smile. “Marcy and Annie are all the women I can handle.” Tilting his head back, he gulped the rest of his beer. “Besides, I was talking about you.”

  Joe sat up. “Me? What about me?”

  Cruz set the empty bottle down on the porch and leaned forward. “Joe, come on, this is me—Cruz. Maybe everyone else will believe you’re helping the woman out of sympathy or a sense of duty or whatever, but I know better.” He hesitated again. “Don’t you think I’ve seen the way you look at her?”

  Joe pushed himself to his feet and climbed down the steps onto the drive. “Maybe you’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

  Cruz came slowly to his feet. “Am I?”

  Joe slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and turned around, looking up at Cruz. “No.”

  “You know, it isn’t a crime to be attracted to someone,” Cruz pointed out.

  “Even if she’s the subject of an official investigation?” He slipped his hands from his pocket, bending down and picking up a pebble from the dirt drive. “I don’t know what it is…there’s just something about her…. I feel…” He tossed the pebble, sending it flying and disappearing into the darkness. “I can’t explain it. Something terrible happened to her out there in the desert, someone hurt her—hurt her so bad she had to block it out in order to survive.” He bent down and picked up another small stone, sending it flying. “And I can’t tell you how that makes me feel.” He turned and looked back at Cruz again. “If you could have seen the look in her eyes, if you could have seen the terror…” He shook his head. “It haunts me. And the thought of someone ever hurting…it makes me so furious, so angry….” He bent down and scooped up a handful of pebbles, hurling them out one after the other. “I told you, it makes no sense. I don’t know if I’d call it attraction exactly, but for some reason I feel protective of her.” He turned and looked at Cruz. “I want to protect her and I don’t even know who she is.”

  “You don’t know who she is—yet,” Cruz corrected. He slowly stepped down off the porch. “But you will. And in the meantime, she can stay here with you and you two can get to know each other a little better.”

  Frustrated, suspicious, apprehensive, Joe turned on his heels, spreading his arms and running out into the darkness. Staring up at the moon, he let out a loud yelp toward the night sky.

  “What am I doing?” he asked, calling back to Cruz. “This isn’t me. I don’t do things like this, I don’t get involved. I don’t bring women here—not here.”

  “Sometimes we don’t have choices in these matters,” Cruz pointed out quietly. “And Rain isn’t just any woman.”

  Joe stared out into the darkness. As though in answer to his primal call, a coyote howled back from the blackness—a lost, lonely sound.

  Cruz was right; Rain wasn’t just any woman. She had a way of looking at him and changing everything. He wasn’t just a man when he was with her; he became more than a man and that was the difference. She made him want to be better, want to aim higher, want to be different. His life changed the moment he saw her and he knew it would never be the same again.

  Rain wasn’t just any woman. But he still had to find out whose woman she was.

  Chapter 5

  “I think there’s been some kind of mistake,” Rain said, glancing down at the sweatshirt and jeans folded neatly on the bed. “These aren’t my clothes.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m afraid the clothes you were wearing when you were brought in are a little worse for wear,” Carrie said, reaching for a hairbrush and a comb from the bed stand and slipping them into a brown paper bag. “Besides, Sheriff Mountain wanted them.”

  Rain looked up. “Sheriff Mountain?”

  Carrie nodded, putting several small bottles of shampoo and lotion into the paper bag, too. “For evidence, I guess.”

  “Evidence,” Rain murmured, glancing down at the clothing again. She had to remember she was merely a case to Joe Mountain—a charitable case at that—a missing person who needed to be reported upon and investigated. She couldn’t let herself misconstrue his offer of a room and board. Anything could have happened out there in the desert. It would make sense that he’d want to keep her close, would want to keep an eye on her. After all, it could turn out that she was the criminal and he’d have to arrest her then.

  She closed her eyes, trying to block out all the awful scenarios that had played through her head in the last forty-eight hours. The shock and the panic of the amnesia hadn’t disappeared, but it had subsided enough to allow her to think about things, to wonder and imagine. She wondered who she was, what kind of person she was. In her mind, she’d pictured herself anything from a lost member of the royal family to one of the FBI’
s Most Wanted and she couldn’t help wondering when she finally did regain all those lost memories, when she finally did remember who she was, would she still feel the same?

  “Your head bothering you?”

  She opened her eyes to find herself looking into Carrie’s kind, weathered face.

  “No, I’m fine,” she lied. “Just a little tired.”

  “Would you like some help getting dressed?”

  Rain liked Carrie, liked how her tough, no-nonsense tone could soften in a moment’s notice, how her stern, rigid expression could transform to reveal a woman capable of tremendous compassion.

  “No, I’m fine,” she insisted, shifting a swell of emotion. “But thank you. And thank you for these.” She reached for the clothes on the bed, catching them up in her arms. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

  “Well, we couldn’t exactly send you out of here in your hospital gown,” Carrie said, her smile broadening. “But you’d better thank Sheriff Mountain.”

  Rain’s eyes opened wide. “Oh?”

  Carrie nodded, setting the bag of toiletries down on to the bed. “He’s the one that brought them in. Dropped them off at the nurses’ station a little while ago.” She took the sweatshirt from Rain’s hands and unfolded it, holding it up to size it on her. “Not exactly the latest from Paris, but at least your backside won’t be flapping around in the breeze.” Holding the sweatshirt up, she turned it around, examining front and back. “If I’m not mistaken, I think these are some of Karen’s things.”

  Rain felt a chill. “Karen?”

  “Karen Mountain,” Carrie said, folding the shirt and handing it to her again. “Joe’s wife.”

  Rain wasn’t sure if she had consciously intended to sit down on the bed or if her knees had simply buckled beneath her. His wife. The words echoed through her brain like a cry through a desert canyon.