Almost Perfect

by Marilyn Tracy

  “What kind of a signal?” Carolyn asked, picturing lights flashing across a vast distance. “Two if by air, one if by desert?”

  He gave her a surmising, appraising look, as if trying to guess if she was being sarcastic or merely attempting to lighten the tension between them. Maybe she was trying to diffuse the situation, set her pain aside until the bad guys were caught and the crisis was over. He made that possibility seem real.

  “Good idea...but I was thinking more in the lines of using your cellular telephone,” the FBI agent said prosaically and then grinned crookedly at her. Apology and regret were inherent in every line of his face, in the steady regard of his eyes.

  She shook her head, fighting the wave of sympathy that threatened her. She forced herself to say lightly, “How disappointing.”

  “But we’ll get to sit up on the roof of the barn,” he said, as if offering a rare treat. Laugh with me, he seemed to be saying. Tell me it’s okay.

  She couldn’t. She felt too raw, too hurt by his lie. “Not my barn, we won’t,” she said. “We’d fall through.”

  “That bad?”

  “Wasn’t the floor wet today?”

  “Soaked.”

  “You have to be up high so you can see all around?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s the top of the roof...or the rise out where the girls first found you.”

  He flinched, as though she’d said something hurtful. Because that was the time to have told her the truth...that first night, that first meeting?

  He shrugged, and the cut at the side of his mouth made him look as though he were grinning. “The roof of the house would be perfect.”

  She remembered how they’d exchanged the word “perfect” in the aftermath of passion and was stung by the gulf that stretched between them now. Then, he’d had his arms wrapped around her, mumbling in half sleep, pressing a kiss to her temple. Now he stood clear across the room, a solid, strong presence miles and miles away from her.

  Dawn was still three hours in the future and she knew both of them should be nearly falling asleep where they stood, but they were wide-awake, fully clothed, and any kind of intimacy seemed utterly impossible, from simple conversation to sharing a cup of coffee together. How on earth was she to get through the next twenty-four hours in his company?

  As if aware of her confusion, Pete stuck to talking about his plans for them. “I think it would be best if we make a grand show of leaving the place tomorrow afternoon. This afternoon I mean. I’ll call our guy in Lubbock when it’s light. Maybe he can show up here as if he’s buying or just hauling Bratwurst for you.”

  “How do we get back here ourselves?” she asked.

  He made a scissored walking motion with his fingers.

  “Won’t they see us?”

  “My hope is that they’ll watch us pull out, dust their hands and figure they’re home free.”

  “That’s a pretty big gamble,” she said. She remembered saying exactly those words to Craig on multiple occasions.

  “It’s the only one we have at the moment,” he said, unknowingly echoing Craig’s standard response.

  Taylor had said Pete reminded her of Craig. The kids had said the same thing. Was Pete more like Craig than she’d allowed herself to believe?

  No. Some things, maybe. Height. General build. Sammie Jo’s cute buns. And the lies. But Craig had lied to her about their life together, her life, their future. Pete had lied to her about his life.

  His past. His present. Wasn’t that different?

  Who was splitting hairs now? she asked herself.

  Everything went as planned once daylight arrived. Getting to the dawn, in the strained, tense silences between them now, had seemed pure agony. And surviving the tension in the clear, cool light of the first March day seemed impossible.

  Pete was on the phone a great deal during the early morning hours, making sure the arrangements they’d planned in the night were likely to come off. Carolyn paced the floor, wishing he’d let her have a crack at the phone; she was worried about Jenny and Shawna, and knew that Taylor couldn’t have gotten through this morning as they’d contrived because the phone had been tied up the entire time and on the rural telephone. system, such conveniences as call waiting didn’t exist.

  But if anything were wrong with the girls, Pete would already have known about it through his contacts.

  Incredibly, she managed to doze off sometime between Pete’s carefully phrased phone call with Tom Adams and his cautious shaking of her shoulder two hours later.

  “Mmm?” She rolled over, her arm brushing against his thigh. “What is it?” she asked then, startled into wakefulness.

  He gave her a gentle, reassuring smile that quickly faded from his bruised features. “Everything’s all right,” he said. “I think we’d better be seen doing some last-minute loading.”

  At something he must have seen on her face, some lingering hurt, a lot of confused longing, he asked, “Are you going to forgive me, Carolyn?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Forgiven but not forgotten?”

  She had to lower her eyes. How could she forget? And yet, just the feel of his hand on her shoulder caused a flash fire through her body.

  They made a terrific show of hauling a few last boxes to the horse trailer. Pete led Bratwurst out of the barn and tethered him to one of the corral fence posts, as if the horse were waiting to be carted away.

  Carolyn fed Ralphette, but made it appear she’d gone to the barn for a few last items to load into the trailer. She and Pete passed each other in the still-muddy driveway and she felt the hurt tension flaring between them.

  A single phrase was all it would take to douse the painful raging fires, she thought, but she couldn’t utter it. That it caused her as much pain as it was obviously causing him didn’t make it any easier to pass by him without reaching out, touching him, forgiving him, accepting whatever motivations prompted him to lie to her.

  She wasn’t so inflexible as to believe that a lie could never be condoned, forgiven and therefore, eventually forgotten. But he’d known from the beginning what trouble she faced... how much simpler it would have been to have just told her he was with the FBI. Simpler and kinder.

  And it was the kindness issue that kept her from stretching her hand across that seemingly endless chasm. That and his amazing selfishness. Unconditional trust, my foot, she thought. Except maybe mother love, nothing was unconditional.

  But she felt the lack of his encouraging smiles, his uplifting crooked grins. Yesterday the hard work had flown by in an almost lighthearted camaraderie. Today, the minutes dragged by, the tension increasing with each glance in his direction.

  Shortly after four o’clock, a white half-ton pickup and horse trailer pulled into the driveway. The driver honked the horn twice, making Carolyn’s heart jolt.

  She went with Pete to greet the “horse traders.” Standing so close to him, matching his stride as they walked across the driveway, she ached to slip her hand in his and hurt all the more because she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

  “Tom Adams,” the driver said, holding out his hand after hopping down from the cab. “And this here’s Steve Kessler.”

  Carolyn didn’t know what an FBI agent—aside from Pete—should look like, but she didn’t think Tom Adams was it. He was only slightly taller than she, roughly five-eleven, maybe six feet in height, and so broad shouldered he looked like an inverted pyramid. His hair was jet black and his eyes a warm brown. He was dressed like any normal cowboy from the Almost area, dusty boots, brightly colored but slightly worn shirt, stained felt cowboy hat.

  Steve Kessler, the Texas Ranger, looked more the part, except for the broad, open grin. He was also dressed cowboy fashion, but sported a baseball cap and tennis shoes instead of hat and boots. He was nearly Pete’s height.

  “Been thinking about your plan, Pete,” Adams said. “Mind if we make a couple of changes?”

  The changes entailed loading Bratwurst
in their trailer, taking him down the road quite a ways and turning him loose. “He’ll come on back to the barn—”

  Pete looked a question at Carolyn and she nodded, smiling.

  Adams grinned. “Meantime, you all will drive on out of here, making a good display of it. You’ll drive on down the road a piece, till you catch up with us. You’ll pull up alongside of us, like as if to ask us what the problem is. You all will hop in our horse trailer, and Steve’ll get in your rig and drive it on out, in case anyone’s watching down the road. I think we can make it look right enough. Any rate, I’ll mosey on back here and swear and curse and load up your horse while you two nip on in the house. Work for you, pardner?” Adams said.

  Pete grinned. “Like a charm.”

  Adams tipped his hat at Carolyn and he and Kessler loaded a much protesting Bratwurst into the trailer.

  Adams turned to shake Carolyn’s hand before departing. “Your horse played his part right well. If we’re watched, won’t be no one surprised if that horse is kicking up a ruckus fit to beat the band. Now if you two can do the same, I think we’ll have us a little party going on.”

  He and Kessler jumped up into the cab of the half-ton and moments later were gone from sight.

  “Show time,” Pete said quietly.

  Carolyn’s heart was already pounding faster. But part of the reason was that he was looking at her as if he meant something else altogether. His eyes were lit with a sorrow-filled tenderness.

  “You already put whatever you wanted upstairs, didn’t you? Anything else you think of, go ahead and leave in the girls’ bedroom. That’s the best access to the roof. Be sure to throw in some food. I’m already starving. And, whatever you do, don’t forget the cell phone and a flashlight.”

  “Roger,” she said, turning for the house.

  “Carolyn,” he called, stopping her. “I feel it,” he said.

  “What?” she croaked.

  “That we’re going to get them tonight. That you won’t have to worry about those guys anymore.”

  Strangely, the Wannamachers were the least of her real worries.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Carolyn carried an empty suitcase—her packed ones still lay on her bed—and loaded it into the Ranger. Pete hauled a couple of things out from the bunkhouse, making the illusion complete.

  They got into the car with Carolyn at the wheel. She gave her house a long, lingering look before putting the car in gear.

  “We’re not even positive they’re watching,” Pete said. “And if they are, I don’t think they can see clearly enough to catch the expression on your face.”

  “I wasn’t acting,” Carolyn said, driving forward. “It’s funny, but I didn’t even know I liked the place until I was getting ready to leave it. Acting out or not, it still bothers me.”

  Pete let the silence gather between them again, though he wanted to talk to her, longed to do so. Carolyn Leary was a remarkable woman, he thought. Courageous, strong. Determined. As filled with integrity and grit as an artesian well.

  He’d told himself he loved her, had even blurted out the words to her. But he’d played the fool. He should have met her with half the honesty and decency that she’d shown him. From the first moment she met him, she’d been nothing less than utterly direct, incredibly straightforward.

  Was his excuse that he’d lived a lie for ten years and didn’t even remember how to go about telling the truth? No. He had no excuse. He’d simply and horribly ignored one of the things he loved about Carolyn the most: her innate character. She’d been right to be angry with him, doubly right to be hurt by his lie. That’s the way people should feel when lied to, he thought. That’s the way people should feel when hurt by the lie.

  He might not be able to have Carolyn and the bright promise that had dangled so briefly before his eyes, but he could help secure her future, save her ranch for her. That suddenly seemed such a very small thing.

  Adams and Kessler had already released Bratwurst by the time Carolyn pulled alongside their pickup and trailer. Adams came to Carolyn’s door. “Now I’m going to keep on standing here, leaning on your window, chatting like I’m doing now.” He turned and pointed across the field toward her place. She followed his gesture and realized it was only for show.

  He turned back around. “And you’re going to slide on out the other side and you and that big fellow with you are going to slip in the side door of the horse trailer. You with me?”

  “With you,” Carolyn said, almost foiling the entire plan by pocketing the keys. She gave a nervous laugh and poked them back into the ignition.

  “You’re doing fine, now, little lady. You just scoot on across now. Pete, we’re going stay real close now, so you don’t hesitate a second to send up the balloon. We’ve got binoculars and a pair of night visions, so we’ll be watching, too. You remember the cell number, don’t you? Just don’t let your guard down. It’s a cinch they’re going to make an appearance at her house sometime tonight, otherwise they wouldn’t have gone to such trouble to clear you all out of there.”

  While he was talking, Pete was guiding her across the seat and out the passenger door. She could still hear Adams’s voice clearly as they crossed the narrow separation between the vehicles and climbed into the horse trailer, taking care to stay well below the roof of the Ranger.

  “It’s not too late to just keep going,” Adams said. “We can take it from here.”

  “No,” Carolyn said firmly. “I want to be there. It’s my home. My life.”

  Once the side door was closed, she leaned her forehead against the side of the trailer. “Think we did okay?” she asked.

  “You were perfect,” Pete said, dropping his hand to her shoulder.

  She couldn’t help it, she stiffened. He pulled his hand back as if she’d slapped him. But he was wrong; she hadn’t tensed out of any sense of rejection of him. She had straightened because at that moment, she’d had to fight the urge not to melt into him, had to war with the need to feel his strong arms around her, his warm breath playing against her temple as he assured her that everything would be all right.

  Through the slatted window, she saw her own vehicle drive away and proceed down the road that would eventually take Kessler through Almost. She felt disconcerted watching her only means of transportation in the world—except for Bratwurst—disappearing down the road.

  Tom Adams pitched a split fit outside the horse trailer, swearing, kicking the side of the trailer and shaking his fist first in the direction of her departing Ranger, then in the direction of her ranch.

  Pete chuckled. “This guy missed his calling. He should be on the stage.”

  “You FBI types seem to have a variety of interesting talents,” she said. The second she said it she knew he’d misunderstood her. Hurt flashed in his eyes and changed them from gray to a searing blue.

  That was the trouble with the first lie, she thought. It had a domino effect of creating misunderstandings, hurts and stings. “I didn’t mean anything hurtful by that crack,” she said steadily, meeting his gaze directly.

  The rig lurched forward then, pitching her into his arms. “What did you mean?” Pete asked, catching her easily, holding her tightly against him. She tried pulling away, but he wouldn’t let her go. And it felt so good to be there.

  “Mending fences, fixing screen doors...doing Shawna’s math homework for her. That’s what I meant.”

  He actually blushed and she had to look away to keep from kissing him. But she couldn’t resist just resting her head against his broad shoulder for a brief moment. It simply felt too right to deny herself this one small boon.

  All too soon they were back at the ranch. Adams pulled the trailer as close as he could to the house, so that the trailer itself would serve as a wall to whoever might be watching.

  Pete held her a second longer, then let her go. He opened the side door cautiously and slipped through it. He held back a hand for Carolyn. For a split second, she only stared at the broad palm. The expanse
between the horse trailer and the back door of her house seemed endless and fraught with danger.

  But the distance between her hand and his seemed immeasurable and the dangers too great to fathom.

  Then she slipped her fingers against his warm skin and sighed as he enfolded her hand.

  “Come,” he said.

  She shivered and stepped down from the trailer into his waiting arms.

  “I’m here with you,” he said softly.

  Still holding her hand, he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him as he led her to the house.

  “Just stay beside me,” he said.

  Didn’t he understand that was all she’d ever really wanted to do?

  Chapter 14

  Climbing out Jenny and Shawna’s window and onto her roof wasn’t as easy as Pete had made it sound earlier. The overhang was narrow at that point and probably rotted underneath. And the roof itself, some six feet beyond the overhang, pitched at a thirty-five-degree angle perpendicular to the window.

  “The plan was that I come out on the roof, not you,” Pete said from his position on the overhang.

  “I distinctly heard the word ‘we’ when you posed the plan,” she said tartly, and found she’d said it just to see that grin of his.

  The cut on the side of his lip, healing swiftly, made his grin look permanently gamin, as if he were on the verge of cracking a joke. For all his silences, for his moods, even for his lies, she’d come to expect a measure of earthy humor in Pete. Smiling came more naturally to him than frowning. That, like so many other of his attributes, was a good thing, she thought suddenly.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, his grin fading a little, his eyes silver gray in the waning light.

  “I don’t know,” she said, but she was lying now. She was thinking that his bruises, fading to that sickly yellow purple, stood out like badges of honor on his face. She’d seen Tom Adams taking in the evidence of Pete’s beating and had also witnessed the exchange of glances between Adams and Kessler. There seemed to be an unwritten code among the three men not to speak of the battering Pete had taken on her account.