River Road

by JoAnn Ross

  "Time to find herself another guy?"

  "Time to make sure she knows what she wants."

  "Yeah, the woman seemed real indecisive," Nate drawled.

  "Besides, this movie is a big deal for her." Liking this excuse, Finn nodded slowly, gravely, wishing he hadn't when the rock pile that he'd been building stone by stone, drink by drink, shifted, causing a few boulders to come crashing down behind eyes that felt like burning coals. "I don't want to distract her."

  "Remind me to stop by Holy Assumption and tell Father Benoit to call the pope and ring the bells," Nate said. "Because Blue Bayou's just got itself a brand-new martyr buckin' for sainthood."

  "Saint Finn," Jack piled on. "Has a nice ring to it."

  "So, I take it the reason you two came all the way out here was to tell jokes?"

  Jack held up the empty bottle. "This isn't any joke, Finn."

  "I know." Finn cursed. "Hell, I don't see how you did it. Bein' a drunk isn't a whole lot of laughs."

  "Spend enough time unconscious and you don't notice."

  "Obviously I've been underachieving." He rubbed his jaw and tried to remember when he'd last shaved. About three days ago, he decided. When he'd put the razor away after damn near cutting his throat. "I'm going to have to crawl, aren't I?"

  "Remember that old eight ball I had when I was a kid?" Nate asked.

  "Sure. You believed those messages like they were God speaking to you from a burning bush."

  "It hit things pretty much on the money most of the time," Nate said. "It told me I was going to lose my virginity to Misty Montgomery. And I did, two days later."

  "I always figured that said a lot more about Misty's reputation than any magic in some dime store toy," Finn said. "Weren't many guys Misty didn't play hide and seek with beneath those bleachers."

  "We're getting off track. The thing is, if I still had that sucker and asked, is my big brother gonna have to grovel to Julia, it'd probably answer that signs definitely point to yes."

  "Groveling's definitely in the cards," Jack seconded his brother's appraisal. "Lucky thing you've been probably gettin' a lot of practice down on your knees worshiping at the porcelain altar since you decided to take up drinking."

  The throwing up had been worse than the jackhammers in his head. Finn might have been wrong about a lot of things in his life, but sticking to RC Cola hadn't been one of them.

  "Jesus, you're a million laughs. Maybe you ought to start writing comedy instead of thrillers."

  "Might as well. Seein' I've got me a clown for a brother."

  Finn glared at him. Jack crossed arms which were pretty damn big for a guy who spent most of his days at a computer keyboard, and stared right back.

  "If you two are going to start pounding on each other, I'm leaving," Nate threatened. "Because if I hang around, I'll get dragged into the damn thing and there's no way I'm gonna risk getting my pretty face broken." He flashed a quick grin. "Hey, maybe I'll go to Nepal and see if I can talk a certain sexy red-haired Bond Girl into changing her mind and goin' for the handsome brother."

  Finn snarled. Then lunged.

  Nate might have been able to dodge the attack if it hadn't been for Turnip, who, always wanting to be right in the middle of things, got in his way. He landed sprawled on the floor, facedown.

  When blood began gushing from his nose, Nate roared in outrage.

  Then grabbed his brother around the ankles and yanked him down.

  Finn hit the wood. "Goddammit," he growled, "you never would have been able to pull that off if I wasn't plowed."

  Jack stayed on the sidelines, watching the flailing fists and swinging elbows as they rolled around the camp floor uncharacteristically littered with old newspapers, fast food bags and underwear. Turnip was jumping happily around them, tail wagging to beat the band.

  Obviously it must be true what they said about marriage and fatherhood settling a guy down, Jack mused, as Nate connected with a surprisingly strong left hook. There'd been a time, not all that long ago, when he would have swung the first fist, been the first on the pile. Now he was just content to play spectator. Until a crunch of bone on bone made him flinch.

  "Okay, that's the bell." He grabbed his brothers by the shirt collars and shoved them in opposite directions. "Get to your respective corners before someone gets hurt."

  "That's the plan," Finn muttered.

  "Christ, you're pathetic," Nate shot back. "Getting all liquored up because you're afraid of a woman."

  Finn looked on the verge of beginning World War III, and Jack decided the time had come to get things moving toward their logical conclusion. "Okay, here's what we're going to do." He yanked Finn to his feet. "We're going to sober you up, then drive you into New Orleans and put you on a plane to Kathmandu, where you will grovel like a dog with its belly in a rut so the woman will agree to save you from a life of booze and despair, living beneath some bridge in a cardboard refrigerator box and gettin' mugged by bag ladies."

  He shot a look at Nate, who'd pushed himself to his feet and was pressing the back of his hand against his nose in an attempt to stem the flowing blood.

  Shit, Jack thought. He'd better get Finn out of here and on a plane quick, before the prettiest Callahan brother realized that his big brother had broken his nose.

  "Give me a hand," he told Nate. "Since the water pressure's shit out here, which rules out a decent shower to sober our big brother up, it's time for a swim."

  Finn was cursing a blue streak when they tossed him into the bayou with a mighty splash. Turnip, thinking this was some new game of fetch her master had invented, dove right in after him.

  * * *

  Although it took some doing, Finn found Julia's parents in San Antonio, at an arts festival at the Riverwalk. Peace greeted him warmly. Freedom did not.

  "You broke my little girl's heart." The artist's booming voice drew a startled glance from a pretty blonde selling handcrafted candles in the next booth.

  "I'm sorry." He'd never spoken truer words. "I didn't intend for that to happen."

  "Road to hell's paved with so-called good intentions." Freedom glanced down at his wife. "I'm sorry."

  She sighed. Resigned. "I know. A man's gotta do—"

  "What a man's gotta do."

  Thinking it was odd that this hippie artist was quoting John Wayne, Finn didn't see the fist coming straight at him until it was too late. Knowing it was deserved, he didn't try to get out of the way; just stood there and took it right on the chin.

  "I'm sorry about that, man," Freedom said, rubbing his knuckles. "But you deserved it after making my baby girl cry."

  "I can't argue with that," Finn said. "If Julia and I are lucky enough to have a daughter, I'd have to do the same thing if some guy hurt her."

  "Are you saying she's pregnant?"

  "Darling," Peace interjected, "that's not your concern."

  "Of course it's my concern. I'm her father. I'm only looking out for her welfare."

  "I do believe those are the same words my father used when he threatened to disown me if I left the house with a long-haired, pot-smoking, hippie draft dodger."

  "Times change," Freedom said. "Fathers don't. So?" he asked Finn again. "Did you get our Julia pregnant?"

  "No." Not yet. But the idea was unreasonably appealing. One of these days. After she'd gotten her movie career on firm footing.

  "But you're going to marry her?"

  "If she'll have me, sir. Freedom," Finn corrected when Freedom's eyes narrowed dangerously. He did not point out that the older man had never seen fit to marry Julia's mother. Still, he'd never seen two people more suited to one another. Except the woman he was determined to win back and him. "That's why I came here. I thought you should be the first to know."

  "Isn't that sweet?" Peace said. "And don't worry, Finn dear, of course Julia will have you. You may have to grovel a bit, but you'll win her over." She took a small blue box out of an oversized woven bag.

  Inside the box was a stone, much
like the ones Julia lugged around.

  "To enhance your powers of persuasion," Peace explained.

  "Thanks." He didn't really buy into the magic rock theory, but as he left the Riverwalk, headed for the airport, Finn figured he needed all the help he could get.

  Chapter 33

  Kathmandu was set in an emerald valley shaped like an oval bowl. The city, encircled by green terraced hills dotted by small clusters of red tiled-roof houses, temples and shrines, was the most exotic and fascinating showcase of cultures, art, and tradition Julia had ever witnessed. There hadn't been a day for the past two weeks that she hadn't wished Finn was there to share it with her.

  She was sitting on a rock away from the others, drinking up the atmosphere during the lunch break, when she saw him walking up the dirt road toward her. At first she thought she was imagining things. That he was merely the product of wishful thinking, a mirage born from her nightly dreams of him.

  Hope fluttered delicate wings in her heart. Because she wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him, to kiss him and never let go, she forced herself to stay where she was.

  "Perhaps you need to get a new atlas," she said. "Because you're a little off target. This isn't Washington, D.C."

  "Tell me about it. It's not the easiest place to get to." Finn had given up trying to count how many means of transportation he'd taken, beginning with the jet out of New Orleans and ending with a taxi driver who'd bartered the mileage fare like a camel dealer, then refused to use the meter. And just maybe, fifty years from now, he might be able to laugh about the hour he'd spent packed onto a bus where the animals had outnumbered the humans.

  "But well worth the effort," she suggested.

  Because he wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her silly, Finn dipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "It really is gorgeous."

  "Isn't it? There's a legend that says this entire valley was once covered by a lake until the Bodhisattva Manjushri raised his sword of wisdom and sliced a passage through the mountain walls, which drained the water and allowed for the first settlements."

  He rocked back on his heels and looked out over the valley that seemed to exude its own energy force. "That's very interesting."

  "I thought so . . . what are you doing here, Finn?"

  "I came to see you. You look great, by the way. You're going to be the best Bond Girl on record."

  "Thank you."

  "Great outfit, too," he said, obviously stalling. "You remind me of Emma Peel. Or Catwoman. But better."

  "What is it about men and cat suits?" she murmured.

  "You could wear a burlap bag and you'd still be gorgeous."

  This wasn't getting them anywhere. "Shouldn't you be back to work? Surely the FBI didn't extend your suspension time?"

  "No. I took a leave of absence."

  "I see. For how long?"

  "Forever. I quit."

  "I see." It was taking a huge effort to keep that polite, distant smile on her face. "What are you doing now? Besides traveling?"

  "I went into business for myself. Actually, with my former boss. Turns out he was ready for a change, too. This way there'll be someone to share the work, which will give us both more free time. Jim and his wife have an empty nest, what with their kids in college, so they decided to take up golf together."

  "That's nice." Personally, she'd never understood why anyone would want to spend a perfectly nice day chasing a little white ball around, but it was always nice to hear about a marriage that was still obviously so strong after many years. "So you'll be working as a professional bodyguard?" Even as she loathed the idea of him guarding any other woman's body, Julia had to admit he'd be perfect.

  "No. Yours is the only body I ever wanted to guard." Her smile turned a bit more genuine as she realized they were, once again, thinking the same thing. "This is more along the lines of corporate security. There's a lot of need for it these days."

  "I imagine there would be. So, I suppose you set up office in D.C."

  "No. That was never my home. Just a place I kept my clothes."

  "Blue Bayou?" That seemed a bit far-fetched.

  "No. I've got an office in LA."

  "Oh." Oh, God. She pressed a hand against her chest, over her heart, which was pounding against her sternum. She was just getting so it didn't hurt all the time; Julia wasn't sure she could take him reopening the wound. "Any special reason that out of all the cities in the world, you chose that one?"

  "Dammit, of course there is," he said in an unusual flare of temper. Then he cursed softly beneath his breath. Scrubbed a hand down his face. "Nate said you were going to make me grovel."

  "It's no wonder Nate's so popular with the ladies," she said mildly. "Since he obviously knows a great deal about female behavior."

  "He also has one helluva left hook."

  "So I see." Because she couldn't just sit there like moss on a rock, while the man she loved was so close, so real, Julia stood up and touched her fingertips to his bruised cheek. His right eyelid was almost swollen closed. His chin. "Did Nate do all this damage?"

  "Most of it. The chin's your father's right uppercut."

  "My father hit you?"

  "Yeah. But it's okay because I deserved it."

  "Well, I'm not going to argue with that. But my parents are in San Antonio." She'd just talked to them last night. "What were you doing there?"

  "Asking Freedom for his daughter's hand."

  "What?" How could a man who seemed so rigid, so set in his ways, prove to be one surprise after another?

  "I figured, after you told me the story about how he went to your mom's father, well, it sounded like a family tradition or something, and hell, I just wanted to try to do things right."

  Of course he would. Julia was trying to think of something, anything, to say when he pulled a small box from his pocket, went down on one knee, and handed it to her.

  Julia slowly opened it. "A tiger's eye?"

  "Damn. Wrong box. That one's from your mother. To me. She said it'd help my powers of persuasion." He dug a little deeper and came up with a second one. This time when she opened the lid, Julia drew in a quick, sharp breath.

  The stone was small, certainly nothing that would draw cameras on the red carpet on Emmy or Oscar night. But it sparkled like moonlight on ice and was set in an antique white gold setting.

  "It was my mother's," Finn explained. "Since I was the oldest son, it came to me after she died. I wasn't sure I'd ever have use for it. Until you."

  She took the ring from its bed of midnight blue satin and slipped it on her finger. "It fits."

  "Obviously a sign."

  "Or you had it sized."

  "Well, I suppose that's one possibility."

  Julia suspected he had. "You were so sure I'd say yes?"

  "I was hoping." He stood up again, towering over her, hands jammed deep into his pockets. "I haven't eaten a decent meal since you left. I haven't slept, haven't been able to think straight, until I sobered up and managed to focus long enough to figure out what I wanted to do for a job, once I realized there was no way I wanted to go back to jumping politi cal hoops and having my life eaten up with lowlife scum who aren't worth the bullets it takes to get rid of them."

  "Sobered up?" One more revelation in a day of surprises. "But you don't drink."

  "I did. For ten days. I thought it was eight, but Jack and Nate say ten. Since I was unconscious a lot of the time, I took their word for it."

  "You got drunk because of me?"

  "No. Because of me. Because I was stupid enough to stand by and let the best thing in my life get on a plane and go halfway around the world, without me telling her that I wanted to be the one she came home to. That I want to be the one she'll make babies with, if she wants them—"

  "Oh, she definitely does."

  "Good. Because I want to get them a big stupid dog who'll shed all over the furniture and chew up your scripts. I want to build a swing set in the backyard and stay up
all Christmas Eve night putting together Hot Wheels tracks and Barbie dream houses.

  "I want to teach them the joy of growing with parents who love each other more with each passing day; a home like we were both lucky enough to have when we were kids. And I want to hold hands while we walk on the beach when we're both old and gray, watching our grandbabies run in the surf and collect seashelts, and showing them the whale migration."

  "That's quite a scenario," she murmured when he paused for a breath.

  "There's a lot more, but it'll take at least the next fifty years to tell it. Hell, I haven't even gotten to the hot sex part yet." His voice was roughened with a depth of emotion she'd once mistakenly thought him incapable of. "I never thought I was a greedy man. But I want it all, Julia. I want everything. But I only want that, will only ever be able to have it, with you."

  She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. "Jack didn't write that for you."

  "Hell, no." He looked affronted she'd even think such a thing.

  Julia drank in the bruised and battered face of the man she loved, the man who'd made love to her with such exquisite patience, the man who'd so heatedly ravished her their last night together in the cabin. The man who'd stubbornly sent her away, then made her wait for so many days for him to see the light. To realize they belonged together.

  The man who'd gone down on one knee and opened himself up to her in a way she knew hadn't been easy for him.

  "Well," he demanded. "Could you please just put me out of my misery and say yes, dammit?"

  It might be petty of her, but Julia loved the frustration that was etched all over his rugged face. Then again, she loved everything about Finn Callahan.

  Julia laughed as she flung her arms around his neck. "Yes, dammit."

  ~THE END~

  Scanned by Coral and proofed by mpkbnh