by Billie Green
A gasp came from Edna. Then, again, weakly: "Well, I never."
Rae had to swallow several times and stare determinedly at her hands until the urge to laugh subsided. The rest of the room seemed to be holding its breath, all eyes turned toward the man who was now being shown to a table.
Something strange always happened whenever Tanner walked into sight. Rae had noticed it before. It wasn't only that people reacted with automatic, electrified interest. It was something in the air, as though the molecules of nitrogen and oxygen suddenly went berserk, caroming off each other in excitement, jolted out of their natural order by his presence.
As lunch continued, Rae listened to the buzz of scandalized whispers and nervous titters that gradually smoothed out until, by the time dessert was served, people were again talking in normal voices.
Normal luncheon voices but by no means a normal luncheon topic, was Rae's guess. And although she couldn't hear their words, she was very much afraid that poor Mr. Lemson was not going to have the undivided attention of his audience.
❧
"... and next I'd like to present a reproduction of a sixth-century icon. Note the way I've used gilded string to . . ."
Lunch was over, and the company's sporadic regard was turned toward Morris Lemson, a small, nondescript man who was taking them, block by block, on a tour of St. Petersburg, describing in minute detail the Byzantine art that he had been moved to translate into string.
Stifling a yawn, Rae let her attention wander. Eventually, inevitably, her gaze came to rest on Tanner. He sat with his chair tipped back against the wall, one knee propped against the table. For a moment she thought he was asleep, then she saw that his attention was held by something below table level. His hands were moving, but she couldn't see what he was doing because her view was blocked by a stout woman sitting at the table next to him.
Her curiosity well and truly piqued, Rae twisted slightly in her chair, craning her neck to see. What was he doing?
At that moment Tanner looked up and caught her watching him. With an audacious wink he raised his hands to chest level. Strong, tanned hands. Hands that were interwoven with twine. A Jacob's ladder.
While Morris talked, Tanner had been creating his own string art.
Rae's lips began to twitch, and she glanced quickly away from him, drawing in several deep breaths to keep the bubble of laughter from surfacing.
Impossible, intractable man, she thought, taking care not to look in his direction again.
When the lecture finally ended, the company moved en masse to the terrace for coffee and almost immediately broke up into small clusters. Clusters that excluded. They stood around the pool in tightly braided groups and talked in low voices, gossiping about the people in the next group, or more likely, gossiping about the tall, lean man who stood alone at the opposite end of the pool.
Since Edna had quickly spotted two fellow gardeners, Rae was free to make her way to the serving table alone, and as she was passing the mayor and his wife, one of those unaccountable lulls that visits every gathering fell across the terrace.
In the hush the tail end of a sentence was heard, sounding unnaturally loud in the surrounding silence.
"... guarantee you, it would take a lot more money than Old Joe has to make Tanner acceptable to the decent people in this town."
Rae caught her breath in a gasp of shock and, along with most of the people around her, turned her gaze toward Virg Embrey, the man who had spoken.
When he saw that he was the center of attention, Virg flushed and raised his chin. "I don't care," he said as his wife tried to shush him. "Everyone knows it's the truth. There are some people you shouldn't have to socialize with. That's why we have a country club. It's not right for Joe McCallister to let his thieving bastard son use his membership to come out here and—"
The ex-football star broke off abruptly, his eyes widening as the color drained from his large, square face.
The subject of Virg's tirade had moved around the end of the pool and was calmly making his way toward the small knot of people.
When he reached them, Tanner looked down at Ruthie Embrey and smiled. "Ma'am," he said, politely greeting the petite blonde.
Then with a casual, almost elegant movement, he turned and tossed her husband into the swimming pool.
Rae's triumphant "Yes!" was drowned out in the uproar that followed. Several of Virg's astonished friends were stooping to help the big man out of the water, while the rest of the crowed gathered around to offer vehement words of sympathy and condemnation. But even the ones who were the most forthcoming with their sympathy and the most outspoken in their condemnation had an avid gleam of excitement in their eyes.
Drew, standing with Lynda near the serving table, turned, and for a moment his eyes met Rae's. As though they shared a secret joke, he moved his right hand in a quick thumbs-up gesture, then with a soft laugh he moved to join the crowd by the pool.
As Rae was watching Drew try to mollify Virg— dripping wet and full of blustering fury—she again caught sight of Tanner.
As before, he stood separate from the others. But now he was watching Rae. And although his dark eyes were ablaze with the wild, demonic light, other things were at work. Emotions her heart recognized. The same way she had recognized them on the night of the Lone Dees dance.
Before she could stop herself, Rae took an awkward, involuntary step toward him. But something he saw in her face, something in her expression, caused his features to harden, and with a short, almost soundless laugh, he turned to the crowd and bowed.
And then, without a backward look, he walked away.
❧
That night Virg Embrey's impromptu baptism was the main topic of conversation in Dicton. To the Burger Barn, die Stop-N-Shop, and front porches all across town, the word spread.
By Sunday morning the story could be heard in a dozen different versions, the most popular of which was that Tanner had gotten drunk and started flinging people—without regard to sex, race, or creed—into the swimming pool.
It was the never-ending gossip that had Rae heading out of town Sunday afternoon. Driving with no destination in mind, she wound up on
Highway 101, gratefully mingling her Volvo with cars that didn't belong to Dicton and whose occupants had no idea who she was, nor did they care. The small taste of anonymity was refreshing.
Fifteen miles west of town, she came to a little roadside park, a small paved loop off the highway with a couple of cement picnic tables and a trash can set in the shade of a cluster of ancient cedar trees. Parked next to one of the tables was a mud-splashed, battered green pickup. Tanner's truck.
Afterward, she couldn't figure out why she did it. She wasn't an impulsive person, and it certainly wasn't something she had thought out. But for whatever reason, a minute later she found herself parking her car behind the green pickup.
Tanner, sitting on top of one of the picnic tables, was feeding scraps of his lunch to some sparrows, and only when she stepped from her car and moved toward the table did he tip back his hat and acknowledge her presence.
"If I didn't know better"—the words were low and lazy—"I'd say you were chasing me. What's the matter, sweetness, couldn't you wait for tonight? Need a little Tanner fix?"
Her jaw tightened, and she almost turned and walked away. The only the thing that stopped her was the knowledge that she would be doing exactly what he expected her to do. She could see him watching her, waiting for her reaction, almost willing her to turn tail and run.
Drawing in a slow breath, she smiled at him. "Hello, Tanner. Nice day, isn't it?"
With a short bark of laughter, he took off his hat and used it to dust off a place for her near his feet. "Take a load off. Don't worry, I won't bite .. . not unless you ask real nice."
Ignoring the taunt, she sat down and glanced up at him. "Is this how you spend your day off?" she asked, gesturing toward the birds.
"I'm a multifaceted man." He scattered some more bread. "This is my Saint Francis si
de. If you'd stopped a couple of minutes earlier, you would've seen Bambi and Thumper frolicking at my knee."
"Which side did we see yesterday?"
He chuckled. "I'd give a nickel for a picture of the look on Virg's face when he hit the water. I didn't know y'all had so much fun out at the country club."
"Why did you go?" she asked, genuinely interested.
After tossing the last of the bread toward the birds, he crumpled his lunch sack into a ball. "I was falling down on the job. It was time I shook things up a little, gave 'em all something to talk about." His lips spread in a wicked grin. "I bet they're going at it this morning. I wonder how many sermons I inspired."
She laughed, recalling the reason she had driven out of town. "They may be talking, but it's the general consensus that if ever anyone deserved dunking, it's Virg Embrey. He was unforgivably rude."
"That's not why I did it," he said, shooting a look in her direction. "Do you think that's the first time I've ever heard that kind of talk? I did it because everyone was waiting for it. Not that particular thing, but something. You saw them. They were all watching me, wondering when I'd do something outrageous. It was practically my civic duty."
She had been studying his face as he spoke; now she said, "You're a strange man."
"Not so strange." He swatted at a fly buzzing between them. " 'If you prick me, do I not bleed?' And then do I not break your face? A long time ago the people in Dicton labeled me an oudaw. I'm 'that wild Tanner West,' the guy who fights anything that moves and screws anything that stands still." He moved his shoulders in a careless shrug. "Back when Hardy's gas station got robbed, nobody bothered to ask what I was doing that night. Since two of the guys I hung around with were involved, everybody just took it for granted that I was too. Ask any one of them about the last time he saw me drunk, and he'll tell you it was only last week. The truth is, I haven't had more than a couple of drinks at one sitting in over six years."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"Why should it bother me? People have to have order in their lives. They have to. So what they do is make their own reality. Truth for them is whatever's easiest to swallow."
His voice was casual, almost disinterested, but she thought his eyes were the most cynical she had ever seen.
"It's not my job to change them," he went on. "I'm the bad guy. Anything else would cut up their peace. It would make them uncomfortable if they thought I had the same hopes and dreams as every man."
He glanced at her. "What's that look for? You don't think I dream? Keeping Dicton stirred up is only a sideline. My main work is dreaming."
He turned and lay back on the table, his hat on his chest, one knee bent as he stared up at the rough canopy of green. "I've got some land out in West Texas, land I've been paying on for more than ten years now. Every spare penny I can get my hands on goes to that land. It's not even a thousand acres, but it's mine."
He smiled. "That land, that's the canvas my dream is painted on. There's just a little trailer out there now, but someday I'll build a house up on this little rise I found. Out in West Texas, a little rise is like a mountain, and from the top you can see clear into tomorrow if you look hard enough. There are a few trees on it, enough to give some relief from the sun, so that's where I'll put my house. Right in the middle of those trees. It'll be a real family place widi a big porch running all the way around it, and grass and flowers in the yard."
He sat up again. "And I want children, Rae. A whole damn houseful of kids."
The enthusiasm in his voice made her blink in astonishment. This was a side of him she had never seen, had never expected expect to see, a side she would never have believed possible.
"There's a little river running along the back edge of my land where I can take my kids fishing. And I'm going to teach them to ride and how to make things grow." He glanced at her. "And they'll all have a sense of humor. I'll tell them about the really important things in life, and teach them how to laugh at all the rest."
Frowning, he said, "I don't carry any excess baggage around with me. My horse, my truck, and the shirt on my back, that's about it. So the mother of my kids will have to bring all that stuff with her. Family pictures for the walls, the quilt her granny made, the ugly vase that Great-uncle Eli gave to Great-aunt Sadie on their fiftieth anniversary, the family Bible with all the names written in it. Things like that give kids a feeling of security."
He fell silent, his expression distant, as though he were actually seeing the spreading panorama of his dream. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, huskier. "And there'll be two rocking chairs out on the front porch, so that in the evening when it's cool, I can sit beside the woman I love and watch our children play."
Sliding off the other side of the table, he moved a couple of steps away, his back to her. "She'll be a special kind of woman. A woman who'll stick by me, even in bad times. But not grudgingly. She'll stay because of all the places in the world, this is where she wants to be. She'll be a woman who knows what forever means. A woman who—"
Although she couldn't see his face, she heard the change in his voice and saw the sudden tension in his shoulders. "I can almost hear what you're thinking," he said harshly. "You're thinking, Tanner West with a woman like that?" He gave a short, rough laugh. "Well, you're right. Hell, I'm not stupid. I know it's just a dream. But any man can dream. You see what I'm saying? Any man, no matter who he is, no matter what he is, can have a dream. Can't he?"
He turned around and took a step toward her. "Can't he?"
The question was filled with urgency and a strange kind of helpless anger. And when she looked deep into his eyes, she saw the same thing she had seen the day before. Vulnerability. Desperate, aching need.
"Yes," she said, in a hoarse whisper, "any man can dream."
And so could any woman.
Hearing his dream, so close to her own, brought a throbbing ache to her chest and the sting of tears to her eyes. And for one brief moment, she had the crazy urge to go to this man, her self-appointed tormentor, and gather him into her arms, to give comfort and draw it from him.
A shout of harsh laughter shattered her thoughts. Blinking in confusion, she raised her head to look at him.
He was watching her, those dark devil's eyes narrowed and intense. "And if you'll buy that, I have a bridge I'd like to tell you about," he said with a malicious smile twisting his lips. "I really had you going for a minute, didn't I?"
He shook his head with contempt and turned to move toward his truck. "Now you see why I tease you," he threw back at her. "You're so damned gullible."
When he reached the front of his truck, he paused and, without looking back, said, "You coming out to the cabin tonight?"
"Yes. . . . yes, I'll be there."
Although he had definitely intended her to be, Rae wasn't angry. She wasn't angry because she didn't believe a word of his final taunt. She might be gullible, but she knew that his dream had been no lie. It was real.
And that was why he had been so emphatic in his denial. When Tanner realized that he had given her a piece of himself, he had tried to grab it back before she had a chance to look at it.
It had taken two years, but Rae finally understood. Now she knew why, of all the people he knew, Tanner had chosen her to antagonize, to tease and torment. He chose her because sometimes when Rae looked at him, she saw who he really was.
He hated her for that, for seeing and understanding, for knowing things about him that no one else knew.
He said the town had labeled him an outlaw, but he was wrong. Tanner himself had done the labeling. It was his defense, his way of getting in the first punch.
No one could hurt Tanner, she thought as she walked slowly back to her car, because he pushed everyone away before they got close enough to do any damage.
Chapter 7
On Thursday afternoon when Rae passed through the outer office, the room was empty. Glenna was home nursing a summer cold, which meant no one was there to ask why Ra
e had stayed so long at the courthouse, and no one was there to notice that she had a most peculiar look in her eyes.
Four days had gone by since Rae had met Tanner at the roadside park, and during those days she had gone to his cabin twice. As though they had reached an unspoken agreement, neither mentioned the accidental meeting. The lessons simply went on as before. Tanner continued to bark out orders, and Rae continued to be torn between laughter and frustration in his presence.
And even while Rae acknowledged her newfound openness to life—the same openness that made it necessary for her to constantly fight against the sensual pull of this complex man—there were times that Rae wondered if she would ever be the woman he was trying to turn her into.
But today, in the span of a few short minutes, everything had changed.
When she walked into her own office, she shut the door and leaned back against it. A moment later she gave her head a bemused little shake and laughed aloud.
"Gonna let me in on the joke?"
The high-backed chair behind her desk swung around. Tanner was slouched down in the chair, his dark eyes fixed on her with interest.
"You look like you just won the lottery," he said. "Or a big case. Don't tell me the electric company is going to settle with Seraphina Rodale."
Rae pushed away from the door and crossed the room. Placing both hands flat on the desk, she leaned toward him. "Right here," she said slowly, "right here in front of me, wearing dusty boots, indecent jeans, and ... do you own a shirt that doesn't have half the buttons missing? Right here, sits a genius."
She drew in a calming breath and kept her eyes level with his. "There have been times in the past two years when I've wanted to strangle you. And there have been times that I've wished you to perdition.
But know this about me: I am no shirker of facts. Rae Anderson does not dodge the truth. And this is the inescapable, unvarnished truth. You, Tanner West, desperado par excellence, Dicton's most celebrated bad boy, are a true genius. If I were wearing a hat, I would take it off to you. Since I'm not, I'll do the next-best thing." She extended her right hand across the desk. "I'll shake the hand of the man who worked a miracle."
