Visible through a crack in the floor, Karl followed the flashlight beam and two dogs—both bobbed-tail blue heelers—into the room. The dogs rushed around, noses to the ground, frenziedly circling the area. Karl quickly swung the flashlight beam across the room.
The beam skimmed over the barn floor near the wall.
His hat!
He jerked up his head to stare across the loft opening at Katie, meeting her wide-eyed gaze.
She drew into a tighter ball, bowing her head on her up-drawn knees in an attitude of prayer. As fascinated as if a rattlesnake lay coiled at his feet, he peered through the crack. Part of his hat brim showed at the edge of the darkness. How did Karl not see it there almost pulsing like a beacon of red light?
"Who's here?" Karl called.
The glow of the flashlight created sinister shadows on Karl's puzzled face as he stood listening. He raked the flashlight beam across the room again then slowly crossed the floor toward the loft. His boot brushed against the hat brim, but he didn't stop until he reached the ladder. Karl raised the flashlight to the broken rung and frowned like he was trying to remember if it had been broken the last time he saw it. He slowly raised the beam of light. Katie shrank silently away from the opening.
One of the dogs growled.
Karl swung abruptly, illuminating the male dog. Its hair raised along its backbone, the dog stalked stiff-legged around the bale of hay where Katie had sat. It stopped, sniffed intently, and then lifted its leg.
Just then, a horrific shriek sounded overhead, like a woman's scream.
The dogs yelped. Karl's flashlight beam jumped, and then swept to the roof. The dogs erupted into fierce barking as metal rent away from its nails and a section of tin rolled rapidly across the roof, clashing metal on metal. A moment later, it hit the ground outside the barn with a crash, and then the dull ripple of tin bounding along the ground faded toward the south.
Karl turned on the dogs. "Shut up, you two idiots!"
The barking silenced abruptly. Karl turned toward the pasture door, and the dogs followed.
With its hackles still raised, the male dog stopped to sniff the hat then lifted a leg on it. With the air of one satisfied by a job well done, the stupid animal bounded after Karl and its mate into the storm.
In the complete darkness, Katie collapsed with a release of pent up breath.
He sat up. Smothering a sneeze on his coat sleeve, he fished his handkerchief from his back pocket. "I've gotta get out of here before he comes back," he muttered, wiping his nose. "I'm gonna look like a real idiot if he finds me hidin' in here."
"Well," she whispered sharply, "we definitely wouldn't want that."
"Hey," he said. "I like Karl. If he finds me here he's gonna think the same thing I'd think if I found some clown in the barn in the middle of the night with my sister. He'll try to kick my butt and I wouldn't blame him." He fumbled around on the floor searching for the loft opening.
She grabbed his sleeve. "What are you doing?"
"I have to get my hat and you've gotta get back in the house."
"We can't get out until he comes back. He'll see our tracks in the snow."
"At least I'll get my hat before that idiot dog comes back. That hat cost me a hundred bucks."
He hoisted himself into the loft again just as Karl and the dogs returned. A few minutes later, the door to the house slammed. Tossing his hat to the barn floor, he jumped down after it then lifted Katie down.
"Give me your hat," she said. "I'll clean it."
"What if somebody sees it?"
"I'll make sure they don't."
He gave her the hat then stood for a moment rubbing the back of his neck. "Geez. What a wreck." He looked at her. "You've gotta let me talk to your folks."
"No," she whispered fiercely. "You've got to give me some more time to work on them, Gil. If you do it now, it'll be an automatic no."
"Katie, this sneakin' around ain't gonna work."
She stiffened. "Nobody made you come."
"I know that. I wanted to see you, but what if Karl had found us? It'd have been pretty darn embarrassin' if nothin' else."
"Go home, then." She stepped away. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you. You won't have to worry about it anymore."
"C'mon, cut it out. That's not what I meant." He glanced over his shoulder. They didn't have time to fight about it now. "You've gotta get back in the house."
She turned on her heel toward the door.
"Katie, c'mon." He grabbed her arm. "Don't be this way."
She shrugged out of his grip and vanished into the darkness.
Outside the barn's back door, four inches of snow already blanketed the ground, still falling heavily.
If the near exposure of his and Katie's secret hadn't cooled his overheated blood enough, stumbling for a half-mile across rocky ground in blizzard conditions would have. He finally reached his pickup and started home, but preoccupied by his nearly frozen feet and blinded by the wall of snow in his headlights, he almost missed the turn onto his grandfather's lane.
At the last instant, he slammed on the brakes, jerking the wheel of his truck. The brakes locked up on the slick road, sending the truck into a broad-slide. The truck slid into the ditch, made a complete roll then slammed back down onto its tires. The left side tires exploded off the chrome rims with deep, booming reports like heavy artillery fire. The left fender smashed into an old cottonwood tree at the bottom of the ditch. His head rebounded off the window like a baseball hitting a barn wall. Glass shattered. His shoulder drove into the doorframe, crumpling the metal like paper.
The truck's motor revved to a scream for a long moment then abruptly cut off, leaving a white blanket of silence over the motionless night.
Chapter Twelve
The door into the old ranch house seemed unnaturally heavy. Gil shoved at it several times before he finally got it to swing open. He stumbled into the house and to the hallway outside his grandfather's bedroom with no recollection of how he had gotten there. Snow tumbled off his jeans and boots to melt into little pools on the wood planks of the hall.
"Gramps," he croaked, holding to the wall.
The old man's bedsprings creaked and the lamp beside his bed switched on.
"Son?" His grandfather jerked on his pants, hurriedly pulling suspender straps over bare and hairy shoulders as he rushed from the room.
"Gramps, Katie…"
She had been with him. Hadn't she? He frowned, trying to concentrate.
"What's happened?" his grandfather asked sharply. "What about Katie?"
"I…don't remember. Gramps, go look." He groaned. "God, don't let her be dead…"
Shivering violently, he closed his eyes, replaying that night with Darlene. The odor of her freshly spilled blood had filled his nostrils…Her head had slumped motionlessly over the wheel of her smashed car…She never moved again.
Never again…
He glared around the room gulping air like a landed trout, struggling to fill his lungs. His legs buckled and he slid heavily down the wall to a seat on the floor.
His grandfather's face came into focus. "Gil, think. Where's your truck?" The old man shook his shoulder.
He yelled in pain and the room spun around. "Wrecked it at the end of the lane. Go see if Katie was…"
Bile rose in his throat. With his stomach heaving, he clutched his bleeding head with one hand. The other dangled to the floor, useless. The room kept spinning.
"Jon—" his grandfather's voice boomed above him at the telephone—"check and see if Katie's in bed." The old man stood silent for a moment. "Okay. Gil's wrecked his truck out there at the turn to my place. I might need some help over here." His grandfather hung up. "She's okay."
His fear released, but black spots swarmed like gnats before his eyes. He licked his lips, swallowing hard. "I'm gonna toss my cookies."
His grandfather glared around then hurried to fetch the five gallon bucket full of kindling wood beside the front door, shoving the bucket a
t him just as he vomited. Then the old man gathered the blankets from his own bed and knelt stiffly to cover him. "Where you hurt besides your head?"
"Arm. Shoulder."
His grandfather eased off his coat.
He yelled again.
"It's broke between the elbow and shoulder," his grandfather said, working gently down the arm. "I'll call an ambulance."
"I don't want an ambulance," he said, gritting his teeth. "Just get your bone bag and put me back together."
"Son, you ain't thinkin' straight. You didn't even know if Katie was with you."
"I was havin' a…flashback…or somethin'. I'm okay now."
"What's the date?"
He paused. "December third or fourth, I think."
"When's your birthday?"
"February eighth."
"Why do you want me to set your arm? I'm no doctor."
He met his grandfather's gaze, his jaw clenched. "Gramps, I don't wanna be the kind of man I am anymore. I wanna be like you."
"Son, I don't want you to be like me." The old man's worried gaze probed his. "I want you to be like Jesus."
"I'm serious, Gramps." His gaze on the old man's didn't waver. "I need to do this."
***
The next morning his grandfather stepped into the bedroom doorway and one of his white collarless shirts striped with thin, vertical blue lines covered his chest instead of just his suspenders. From where he lay on his grandfather's bed, Gil opened his right eye—the other one had swelled shut.
"How are you this mornin', Son?" his grandfather asked unsmilingly.
He swallowed. "Thirsty."
While his grandfather left for the kitchen, he cautiously examined his stiff face with the fingers of his right hand. A series of cuts and abrasions covered most of his jaw, his cheek and the left side of his forehead. Strips of bandage held closed the lips of a gash on his cheekbone. He shifted on the bed, wincing when he couldn't straighten his bad knee.
His grandfather returned with a glass of water. He lifted his head and swallowed it all then the old man looked intently into his eyes, pulling down his eyelids one at a time.
"Still got a headache?"
"Little bit."
"Seein' two of anything?"
"No."
"Mmhm. You've got a whale of a bruise on your shoulder." The old man leaned over to peer at it. "How's the arm?"
He carefully moved his arm, heavy in its cast, then flinched at the pain in his shoulder. "Not too bad." He grinned feebly. "My messed up knee's a little more messed up, though."
His grandfather pulled back the blankets and leaned over to examine the knee. "Well, it ain't pretty."
"Never was."
"Swelled up twice its size."
"I think I rammed it into the dash."
The old man balled up a pillow and placed it under the knee. "That feel better?"
"Yeah."
"Talked to your mama." His grandfather pulled up the blankets. "She said she'd come if you want her to."
"No. It's just a tap on the head and an arm. That ain't nothin' next to what I usually have."
The old man sat on the chair beside the bed, eyeing him. "Were you with Katie last night?"
He covered his eyes with his right arm. Slowly, he nodded.
"I told Jon a while back I thought that might be what was goin' on."
He moved his arm to stare at his grandfather in surprise.
"Son, it wasn't hard to figure out."
He covered his eyes again. "If he knew, why didn't he catch us?"
"Katie's smarter than he is, and not as tired. Besides, he's not used to her lyin' to him and sneakin' around. He didn't believe me."
He flinched. "Why didn't you say somethin' to me?"
"Wouldn't have done no good…you've been lyin' to me, too." His grandfather paused. "Didn't reckon I could hog-tie you."
The ticking of the wind-up alarm clock on the bedside table sounded loud in the silence.
The tension in his body gradually relaxed. "I guess I'm kind of relieved."
"Sneakin' around with a good girl don't make you feel like much of a man."
"No."
The old man cleared his throat. "Katie's been under a lot of strain for a long time. That deal with Dave's been hard on all of 'em. And then her Mama bein' so frail carryin' this baby, and school…she's had a heavy load."
He nodded.
"You blowin' in like a hurricane, too, and then the thing with Lance couldn't have been easy. He's been her friend all her life. Lot of changes."
He tensed, waiting.
"It's been my experience in life that the number one reason young girls get married is to escape a situation."
The old man's words lay heavy between them.
"How'd you know about that?" he asked, at last.
"She wouldn't be carryin' on with you if she wasn't aimin' on marryin' you."
He swallowed hard. "Are you sayin' what she…feels for me ain't real?"
"I guess we'll see."
He closed his eyes as a thin layer of cold sweat oozed from his pores. He swallowed again. "I think I'm gonna puke."
His grandfather reached for the puke bowl on the table beside the bed and wordlessly handed it to him.
***
He woke later that morning to Katie sitting on the chair beside the bed in jeans and boots, her hands in the pockets of the coat she wore over her white sweatshirt.
He gave her a groggy half-grin. "Did I die and go to heaven?" he murmured.
Her eyes, already red and swollen, filled with tears again. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder then fell to her knees beside the bed. Leaning over him, she pressed her face to his un-bruised cheek.
"Gil, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Are you okay?"
"I am now." He moved his aching head against her smooth, cool cheek. "Nice."
"Your poor face." She gently touched his cheek and then his shoulder. "This is my fault."
"It's not," he mumbled through his swollen mouth. The beautiful depths of her eyes mirrored real distress—his grandfather hadn't known what he was talking about. "I wanted to see you. I always wanna see you. How'd you get here?"
"I had a big fight with Dad and he finally brought me." She began to cry in earnest and pressed her lips gently to his. "They're trying to break us up. Gil, please don't go away somewhere. I love you."
"Shh…" He tasted her desperation on his tear-salted lips. "It'll be okay."
"I can't stand to lose you."
"Katie, I'm not goin' anywhere."
She drew back a few inches, searching his gaze.
He rubbed his thumb across the smooth skin of her jaw, steadily holding her eyes. "No matter what."
She slowly nodded. He drew her to him and kissed her, sealing his promise with all the unsuspected tenderness she had found and unburied in him.
"Get your butt in the chair, Kate." Her dad's voice from the doorway lashed across the room.
She whirled to face her father's angry gaze. With his face chapped and reddened by the cold wind outside, Jon wore his chore clothes—worn brown coveralls sprinkled with hay bits and wet below the knees, and a heavy brown coat. He pulled off his black stocking cap and stuffed it in the back pocket of his coveralls, leaving his dark hair in disarray. Katie slowly rose to sit in the chair, her hands in her lap.
Jon's gaze leveled on him. "This level of…friendliness—" he bit out the words contemptuously, "didn't happen from just meetin' my girl in the barn one time, now did it?" He looked at Katie, shaking his head in disbelief. "Every time I think we've heard all the lies, there's more. Why d'you keep lyin' to me and Mom, Kate? I don't understand—"
"This is my fault, sir," he said.
Jon turned on him. "You don't have to tell me that. Before you came along she was a good kid. She's never lied to me or been sneaky in her life," he said, the anger in his haggard expression unable to hide his confusion. "I knew I couldn't trust you, but I never would've thought in a million years
she'd…" he said thickly. He stopped and cleared his throat. "When Gene told me what he thought was goin' on, I didn't believe him."
Katie's head drooped toward her hands gripping on her lap.
"It won't happen anymore, sir," he said.
Jon's dark circled eyes, heavy with strain, narrowed. "I told you what I expected of you a few weeks ago and you didn't pay a lick of attention to it, so that don't mean much to me today."
"If it helps at all, sir, I—" he swallowed—"kept my pants on."
"I guess that'll have to do, won't it? If it's true."
"It is true, Dad," Katie flared. "Nothing like that happened. And it was me that wanted to meet him. It's not his fault."
Jon winced.
At her dad's expression, her jaw set. "I mean it. If you don't let him start coming to see me, I'll run off with him. For good."
"Katie…" he protested from the bed with a groan.
Her dad rasped his hand across the whisker stubble on his jaws, staring down at her as if seeing her for the first time…and the sight was a bewildering heartbreak.
"Go get in the pickup," Jon said, finally. "Your mother needs you at home."
She turned toward the bed and held his gaze for a long, distraught moment. Then she slowly rose and left the room.
Her dad looked at him. "If you weren't layin' there all busted up I'd thrash you within an inch of your life."
"Yes, sir."
"You meet my daughter—" Jon's piercing gaze blurred with tears that didn't fall—"my only little girl…in my barn…"
He looked away, ashamed as he had never been before in the presence of an angry father. "I meant it when I said I love her." He raised his eyes, swallowing hard. "I wanna marry her."
"Oh, God," Jon muttered, turning away. He rubbed the back of his neck as a minute passed. Then he jerked his handkerchief from his back pocket and blew his nose. "She thinks she's in love with you—" his lip curled disgustedly as he turned, shoving the handkerchief back into his pocket—"so thanks to that, I can't do anything with her short of tyin' her up in her room. If you wanna see her, you'll have to come to the house once a week where I can keep an eye on you. I guarantee she won't be sneakin' out of the house at night again." Her dad turned, heading for the door.
The Cedar Tree (Love Is Not Enough) Page 15
