by Hope Ramsay
She looked up into his eyes. He really did know. He really could understand.
“I have to get on a plane to Somalia in four days.” She left the thought hanging. It was too hard to admit that she really didn’t want to go. She’d never been a coward. But she didn’t want to return to the field.
“Is that why you want to sleep with me? You figure I’m safe because you’re only going to be here for the next few days?”
The vehemence in his tone surprised her. He’d misunderstood. “No, I—”
“See, that’s the reason I’m going to ignore your offer. I know how that goes.”
“How what goes?”
“How easy it is to take comfort in someone and then get on a plane.” He let go of her hand.
“Is that what happened with you and Sharon? Did you love her and then leave her?”
She had been shooting in the dark, but when his jaw flexed, she knew she’d hit the mark. She expected him to get up and walk out. Instead, he took a big breath and started talking. The words came slowly. “We were kids when we got married. Both of us barely eighteen. We were hot for each other, but Sharon was determined to marry a college boy. She broke up with me when I joined the Marines.”
“So how did you end up married?”
“Miriam Randall gave me a forecast that fit. And I talked her into marrying me. Man you should have seen me down on one knee running my mouth. I don’t think I ever talked so fast in all my life.”
She gave him a smile that he didn’t return. “I’m sure your speech was very moving.”
“I wanted to marry her. I loved her. She loved me. But I think she regretted her decision.”
It was hard to think about any woman who might regret marrying Stone.
He stared down at his untouched tea for a moment, then he spoke again, “We thought we had a plan for the future. She was going to go to college while I did boot camp. And then Iraq invaded Kuwait, and I ended up smack dab in the middle of the Gulf War. And Sharon ended up pregnant.”
Lark counted the years. “That was in 1990. Lizzy’s not that old.”
Stone took a deep draught of the tea and put the cup back on the table. “My son’s name was Tyler. He was born three months early with a congenital heart defect. In 1991, when I was off breaching the Saddam Line, my wife was dealing with the mess I left behind. She gave up on getting that college degree.”
He finally looked up at her, his eyes haunted. “She threw herself into caring for Tyler the way she threw herself into everything. Tyler lived for four years. And for most of that time, I was on deployment. I saw the world on Uncle Sam’s dime, but I hardly knew my son.”
“Why weren’t there any photos of him in the album?” Lark blurted. This was shocking. And heartbreaking.
He blinked. “Momma knows better.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like your mother.”
“Sharon and I decided to put the past in the past when I left the service. And by then Lizzy was here. We had a pretty good life, I thought. But on the day Sharon died, she told me she wanted to sign up to take courses at the community college.”
He paused for a moment, clearly battling his emotions. “And I had the balls to question whether she could manage classes and the kids at the same time. I knew damn well that she wanted a college education. I’ll never forgive myself for what I said that day.
“I also wonder what might have happened if we hadn’t argued. Would she still have ended up at that intersection when that drunken asshole ran the light?”
He got up violently and stalked out of the room. Lark remained behind in stunned silence. For days now, she’d been hearing about the beautiful love between Stone and Sharon, how their marriage had been predicted by the infallible Miriam Randall, how they were soulmates, how he’d run off with Sharon when they were young. The picture everyone painted was the picture of a storybook love.
No one had said a word about a little boy with a broken heart named Tyler. No one had said anything about Sharon giving up her dreams.
And now the truth was lost forever in the story that was left behind.
Damn it. People needed to quit hiding the truth. Stone and Sharon hadn’t been a fairy tale. They had been a loving couple who’d faced the worst life could hand them and still stuck together. Why was a fairy tale better than a story like that?
Stone stood at the windows and stared down at the sleet accumulating on Palmetto Avenue.
Damn it. Why the hell had he opened his mouth? He’d come to talk to Lark about her problems and ended up confessing his. He ought to turn around and force her to tell him all the gory details about what happened in Libya. It would only be fair, now that he’d spilled his guts about Tyler and Sharon.
He heard her stand up and take a few steps. Stone turned around to find her standing in the kitchen doorway looking both fragile and brave. He couldn’t imagine a woman so tiny in the middle of the Libyan civil war. But she’d been there. And she was battling her way back. Boy, she was some kind of strong woman.
“Things will be better tomorrow,” Lark said. “It’s the winter solstice—the longest night of the year. And it’s a fact that tomorrow there will be more daylight than there was today.”
Two strides had him standing right in front of her. “That’s a comforting thought,” he murmured. He cupped her cheek in his hand.
She leaned into the touch. “Yeah. And if you looked at the photos I shot today, you understand why I see you as a light in the darkness. I don’t really understand how or why. But when I frame you in my camera, all the shadows disappear, and I’m not afraid to squeeze the shutter. Ironically, that scares the crap out of me.”
She reached out and touched his face, her finger tracing fire across his skin.
He trailed his thumb over her lips and then leaned down and gave her a kiss. He lingered there, barely touching her. Her lips ignited a flame inside him.
“I want you,” he whispered. He pulled back a fraction.
She ran her hand up over his scalp, her fingers sending ripples of reaction down his back. “And I told you what I wanted. But I’m still leaving in a few days. Are you okay with that?”
“Are you?”
She nodded. “I’m always getting on airplanes. That’s what I do. It’s who I am.”
She got up on tiptoes and kissed him. Her breasts pressed up against his vest. Damn it all, why the hell hadn’t he taken the fool thing off? She was way too far away.
She opened her mouth.
Boy, she was sure making this easy for him. He moved in. He lost his mind for a while in the heat of her mouth. He cupped the back of her head to get a little more leverage.
She let him. Then she let go of a little sexy noise that told him she was having a good time. And he ran his hands down to her back and pulled her a little closer.
His hands found her hips. She had a cute little shape, didn’t she? Damn.
She was sure accommodating. His heart beat in his ears, and he felt just like the eighteen-year-old who had lost his virginity on his wedding night. The errant thought wrapped itself around his brain in a toxic way. He pushed at it. Why the hell was he thinking about that right now?
This was now. That was then.
But it was too late.
She backed up a little. “You have second thoughts, don’t you?” She gave him a little smile like she knew what was going on in his head. Then she moved off to the other side of the room.
He stood there breathing hard, trying to figure out just what the hell had happened.
He might have had a chance to figure it out if his damn radio hadn’t chosen that moment to crackle back to life with the news that there had been a three-car wreck at the intersections of Route 70 and the Charleston–Augusta Road.
Lark gave him a weary smile. “Well that’s kind of ironic. Without the ice, you might have slipped.” She sighed. “It’s probably for the best. I wouldn’t want to leave you with regrets.”
He didn’t know how to
respond to that, so he answered the dispatcher. Then put on his belt and his holster and raincoat. But right before he headed out her door, he turned toward Lark and studied her.
She was stubborn and hardheaded and different from any woman he’d ever known. She was willing to give herself to him—with no strings attached.
It was just plain stupidity to cling to old-fashioned ideas. He wanted her. He wanted her bad. He was willing to live with his regrets. Hell, he already had a million of them.
So he crossed the room and pulled her right up into a big, fat, wet, sloppy kiss. And boy, it felt real good, and he let her know it, even if he didn’t have any words to explain it.
And then he turned, put on his Stetson, and stepped out into the ice storm. But it sure was interesting the way Lark’s kiss managed to keep him warm the rest of the night.
And it was a long night, too. The longest night of the year.
CHAPTER
15
Haley cracked an eye. The light from outside her bedroom window looked unusually bright. Lizzy, fully clothed in jeans and her big red Christmas sweater, was standing in front of the window looking annoyed.
“What’s that light?” Haley asked.
“It’s the ice. It’s everywhere,” Lizzy said.
Haley crawled out of bed, aware that the angel was standing in the corner studying Lizzy very carefully. The angel looked more worried than sorrowful.
Haley hurried to the window and looked out. Ice covered every branch and twig of the peach tree that grew in the backyard. The morning sun sparkled like diamonds in the branches.
“Oh, it’s pretty.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty, but it’s a pain,” Lizzy said. She turned away from the window. “I’m going to have to walk up to the stables. I was going to ride my bike.”
“Why were you going to ride your bike? Granny will drive you.”
“I didn’t want to bother Granny.” Lizzy pulled the knitted hat that matched her sweater down over her hair. “Tell everyone where I am, okay? I promised Mr. Randall I would help him clean the stables over Christmas break.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I did. And don’t forget to tell Daddy or he’ll burst a blood vessel or something.”
“If you’re working for Mr. Randall, why would Daddy be mad?”
“Because he’s mad all the time.” Lizzy pulled her gloves out of the dresser.
“You aren’t really going to Mr. Randall’s stables, are you?”
Lizzy gave her the stink eye, and Haley knew for a fact that Lizzy was lying. Also, it helped that the angel was shaking her head.
“Look, you tell Daddy I’m at the stables, or I’m going to let Granny know that you are the one who broke that teacup she loves so much. I know you buried it out in the backyard.”
Fear prickled Haley’s backbone. “You know about that?”
“Yeah, I do. So just mind your own business,” Lizzy said. “Tell Daddy and Granny that I’m at the stables, and I’ll be back for dinner.”
Haley hated lying for Lizzy. But if Granny ever found out about that teacup, Haley’s backside was going to get paddled. Not that Haley had ever in her life been spanked, but breaking the teacup and then lying about it was probably enough to get a real spanking. That teacup had belonged to Haley’s great-great-grandmother.
Haley turned back to look at the ice outside her window. It was real pretty, but it left her feeling bad in some strange way. Ice wasn’t exactly snow.
She sighed.
“Your father needs to forgive,” the angel said.
Haley turned. She was tired of hearing stuff like this. The things the angel wanted Haley to do were too hard. Haley couldn’t make Daddy’s heart bigger. And Daddy wasn’t ever going to laugh again, ’specially not at the dumb old jokes in that book she’d taken out of the library.
She made a face at the angel. “Is this like the time I had to forgive Maryanne when she messed up the hair of my Ghoulia Yelps Monster High doll?”
The angel didn’t answer.
“Well, because if that’s what Daddy has to do, then you’re asking for a lot. I mean, Maryanne ruined my doll, and I had to tell her not to feel bad about it ’cause it was an accident, but I know it wasn’t any such thing.”
Haley pressed her head against the cold window and let her resentment of Maryanne fill her up with misery. Maryanne was such a pest and a pain. Why did she have to forgive Maryanne for messing up Ghoulia? And why did Maryanne get to be the angel in the Christmas play?
Her breath fogged the window while she thought about her problems.
“Who does Daddy have to forgive?” she asked after a long moment.
The angel didn’t answer.
“You think he needs to forgive me and Lizzy?” she asked, thinking about the broken teacup. She probably needed to apologize to Granny for that and pray that Granny would forgive her. But she didn’t think Daddy would care all that much about a broken teacup.
She thought on this for a long time, and then she realized that Daddy didn’t need to forgive her for breaking that teacup, because the cup didn’t belong to Daddy. It belonged to Granny. So really, the angel was saying that Haley had to apologize for something even bigger than that.
She turned and looked at the angel and thought about all the problems the angel had caused since last Christmas. Maybe Daddy had to forgive Haley about the things her angel had done.
The angel stared right back at Haley but didn’t give her any sign. And wasn’t that sort of like a sign in itself?
So that meant that Haley had to be like Maryanne and apologize for the angel. Which didn’t seem very fair, since Haley hadn’t exactly asked to be burdened with a Sorrowful Angel.
But it was clear that she would have to do it anyway.
She made up her mind. She would be brave. Because she needed to find a way to get that angel back to Heaven if it was the last thing she did.
By the time David met Lizzy out on Bluff Road, it was almost ten o’clock, and the ice had pretty much melted away in the bright sun. Riding his bike on the icy road had been a challenge.
Lying to his mother about having a sore throat so he could get out of going to schul had been insane. He was going to get into trouble.
But it didn’t matter. If Mom didn’t want him to be friends with Lizzy, then she gave him no choice but to turn into a sneak. And besides, the chance to have an adventure with Lizzy was something that didn’t come along every day.
She was wearing a floppy red sweater and a matching wool hat. Her jeans were tucked into a pair of big rubber boots with yellow duckies on them. She was beautiful.
They pulled their bikes into the underbrush beside the road and found a trail leading into the woods. The trail skirted the edge of a cypress swamp that was still frosty from last night’s storm.
David followed Lizzy, her red sweater a startling flash of color against the browns and greens of the trees and the swampy water. The place smelled of decay, and David kept an eye trained to the path, making sure they weren’t blundering into snake nests or worse. He kept telling himself that it was a cool day, and reptiles were cold-blooded.
Also, he wasn’t about to tell Lizzy he was scared of snakes. She seemed to be afraid of nothing.
They reached an area of muddy ground that had been pretty badly trampled. “This must be the place,” Lizzy said as she boldly strode into the mud, her boots squishing with each step.
“Okay, you should take some photos, and I’m going to search for the gun.”
“What?”
“You know, the gun. It’s missing. If we find it, it will be a scoop.”
David refrained from pointing out that they were unlikely to find the gun here, since the police had obviously been all over the area pretty thoroughly. Instead he took the lens cap off his Canon and started shooting photos. He took a few boring shots of the swamp and trampled earth, and then he focused on Lizzy as she wandered around, poking under logs and peering into the shallow wate
r.
She was magnificent. The cold touched her cheeks with red, and the sun glinted in her green eyes. He watched with admiration and amusement as she picked up a stick and started poking it into the dark water right at the edge of the swamp. She was leaning over a fallen log, frowning in concentration.
“Hey, I found something,” she called.
He was astonished. He picked his way over the sodden ground. “Is it the gun?”
She levered the stick up and out of the water. Snagged on its end was…
He stared at the muddy, sodden thing a long moment, trying to decide what it was.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Lizzy said, pulling a plastic bag out of her jean pocket and dumping the dripping thing into it.
“What the hell is that?”
“A porkpie hat, like the one Michael wears.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “What do you think it means?”
“I think it means that half the school has beat us out here.”
“Yeah, but Michael wasn’t wearing his hat yesterday. And he dropped his tray when he heard about Jimmy Marshall being dead. You think he lost his hat out here at the same time Jimmy Marshall killed himself? That would explain why his father is dragging his feet on the investigation.”
“Jeez, Lizzy, you have a real active imagination.”
She stood up and brought the bag over to him. She opened it and looked down. “Well, lookie there, it’s even got his name in the band.”
David looked down at the waterlogged hat, and sure enough the name “Michael Bennett” had been scrawled into the inner hatband.
Lizzy snorted. “Like he totally had to put his name in it because there’s more than one guy at school who wears a stupid hat like this.”
“It’s not exactly the smoking gun you were looking for.”
“No, it’s not. But I sure could use it to embarrass the crap out of him.” She chortled evilly.
“How? By turning it in to your father and trying to pin Mr. Marshall’s murder on the Davis High homecoming king?”
She snickered. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, there are a couple of problems with that. First of all, you’ll have to explain to your dad why you were out here in the swamp with me. And second, I don’t think you’ve got much of a motive for Michael. And third, while Michael is a jerk and a bigot, I don’t see him being brave enough to actually kill anyone.”
