His smile altered his features, though, as he bent down to pick up his son, Peter. “So this is where you got off to,” he said, looking at his wife and children.
“This is Leo’s friend, Amanda,” Christie said. “Amanda, this is my husband, Cal. He’s the rancher in the family.” Christie turned to look at him. “Amanda is interested in the Rocking C buffalo.”
“Oh, I—” She didn’t want to talk about animals. She wanted to know about family.
What does family really mean to you, Calvin Crawford?
“That was mostly my brother’s doing, but it’s worked out okay.”
“Just okay,” Christie responded in a scoffing tone.
“Your brother doesn’t live here, does he?” Amanda knew he didn’t, but she struggled for something to say that sounded casual. Conversational. And all the while she just wanted to stare at him.
“No, Troy defected to New Hampshire. He’s a Yankee.”
“He’ll always be a Texan first, but he’s married to someone from New England,” Christie explained.
I want to meet him, Amanda wanted to say, but couldn’t think of a way to ask when he would be visiting next. She might have to drive to New Hampshire after her trip to Arkansas.
“It’s nice to meet you, Amanda,” Cal said politely, adjusting the squirming little boy in his arms. “Glad Leo invited you tonight.”
“Thanks. And happy birthday,” she managed to say. Her voice sounded weak and distant in the cacophony of the room. People talking, music playing and the normal restaurant sounds practically drowned out her words.
Cal turned away to say something to Wyatt McCall, dismissing her as just another guest at his party.
There had been no hint of recognition, no big moment where he looked at her quizzically and stated, “Gee, you seem familiar.” Just a casual glance and then he was gone, tickling his son as they turned to talk to someone else.
She stood there, staring, feeling as if she were floating outside her body. She’d just met her brother and what did she say? Nothing significant or memorable that was for sure.
“Here’s your beer,” Leo said, handing her a cold mug.
She barely latched on to the handle of the heavy glass. “Thanks.” Her brother and her nephew were in their own zone as Christie leaned close with baby Callie. Family. That’s what they were.
That’s not what she was to them. They might never think of her as family.
“Hey, are you okay?” Leo asked.
She looked up into his concerned blue eyes. “Just a little…” What? Melancholy? Disappointed? How could she tell Leo about her feelings for someone she didn’t even know? “I just need some air.”
She put her beer on the table and spun away before he could question her, before she had to come up with answers she didn’t have. The front door beckoned with a promise of fresh air.
She nearly ran through the foyer and outside, stopping at the edge of the limestone entryway as a pickup truck rumbled past. Leaning against a rough wooden railing, she sucked in a deep breath.
She’d been composed, so sure she could do this. Carefully containing her excitement, she’d focused on her reason for being here, the logic of contacting her brothers before someone else did it for her.
And then she’d actually met her brother.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leo’s hands closed over her shoulders as he came up behind her.
She shook her head, unable to answer. She couldn’t put her feelings into words.
“Talk to me, Amanda,” he urged gently. “I really do want to help.”
She stood there for a while in the cool darkness, beneath the glow of the floodlights that shone higher up the building. “Would you…would you hold me?” she asked instead.
He turned her gently but firmly, snuggling her against the front of his shirt. She breathed deeply of the clean, male scent, feeling his warmth all the way through her bones. Oh, she needed this, this feeling of closeness. How long had it been since someone had held and comforted her?
A long time. Too long.
“Why did you run out?”
She shook her head against his chest. “Not now.” Not yet.
“There’s a lot I don’t understand about you, Amanda Allen,” he said. She felt his warm breath on the top of her head and sensed his frustration.
She couldn’t tell him. The story was too personal to share with anyone but her brothers. How could she explain her mother’s decisions to a person who wasn’t related, who didn’t fully understand the effects of bipolar disorder?
She turned so her cheek was against his heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take you away from the birthday dinner.”
“Don’t worry about it. I care a heck of a lot more about what’s going on with you than I do with how many friends I can talk to right now. Besides, I told them you needed some fresh air. No one but me is concerned.”
“And why are you so worried about me? You’re not responsible for my…welfare.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told, but you know, somehow it seems as if I should be.”
She shook her head again. He wasn’t responsible for her. How could he be when they hardly knew each other?
“I know that seems a little crazy,” he said quietly.
She nodded.
“But I like being a little crazy,” he whispered, and then he lifted her chin with one finger.
She didn’t resist. For an instant, the whole world seemed to go still. The wind stopped, civilization receded and the night stretched out, endless and dark. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to simply become one with the little piece of the universe right here, right now.
His mouth touched hers, softly at first and then questing. Playing. Searching. Her lips parted and she kissed him, gently and then more insistent, needing the hot feel of his mouth on hers. What was once calm turned wild and reckless and daring. She wound her arms around his back and held on for dear life.
A car door slammed. Voices broke the silence of the night, then laughter erupted as several people walked toward the front entrance. Amanda pulled away from Leo and opened her eyes.
Leo watched her, his lips moist and parted, his own eyes questioning. “Who are you, Amanda?”
She shook her head and stepped away. “I’m just someone who should get back inside. Don’t you think we’ve been gone from the party long enough?”
She turned, put her head down and walked to the door before Leo responded. She had no answers to his questions and he had far too many observations for her peace of mind.
Her brother was inside. Despite the fact that he didn’t recognize her, that there had been no moment where he comprehended they were related, she could still spend time around him.
Time, she was beginning to realize, could be nearly as precious as family.
Chapter Six
Leo wasn’t the best online researcher, but he knew how to find a few facts on someone.
Everything he’d learned about Amanda just confirmed what she’d told him and everyone else. She was twenty-six years old, single, from Oregon. She had an online auction store on eBay and also sold on a few other sites. She’d written numerous articles on travel, vintage items and flea market shopping.
She had no criminal record.
So, who was she? The genealogy research she claimed she was doing for a client sent warning bells when combined with her fascination for the Crawford family. There was only one person who might help him discover the truth, but he was slightly reluctant to involve her. Still, the mystery was getting to him. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on business since he’d met Amanda.
He glanced at his watch. His mother was probably still up, watching Letterman or Leno or whoever she preferred at the moment.
“Hey, Mom,” he said when she answered her cell phone. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, just watching television. What’s up?”
“I got home a few minutes ago from Cal Crawford’s birthday party ou
t at Dewey’s.”
“That’s nice. Did you have a good time?”
Leo smiled at the question. She always asked, just as if he were still a teenager on a first date. “I did, but there’s something I want to ask you about.”
“About Cal?”
“No, not really. Well, maybe indirectly. I’m not sure.” He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. He’d been up early to go to the garage sales and thrift stores with Amanda, wondering what the heck he was doing and why he was doing it.
And then there’d been that kiss tonight…
“Go ahead. What can I help you with?”
“You’re still into genealogy, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t been doing any research lately, but I have our family tree online and occasionally I talk to some distant relatives or people who think we might be related.”
“I met someone who might be related to the Crawfords.” There, he’d said it. Put his suspicions into words.
“Really? Where are they from?”
“Oregon, but that’s not the important thing. Now, please keep this a secret between us, okay?”
“All right. What is it?”
“The young woman who’s staying at the condo—she’s had lunch at the café and I spent the day with her, going to garage sales and stores around the area.”
“You went to garage sales?” He could practically hear his mother sitting up in her chair. She wasn’t surprised to learn about Amanda, he noted.
“Yes, I did. So, her name is Amanda Allen. I’m not real sure, but I think she could be somehow related to the Crawfords.”
“She’s young, right? I can’t access any records before the 1950s, and only the census from 1930 on back is available online.”
“Oh.” Well, hell. That didn’t do any good. Amanda would have been born around 1985 or so.
“I can try to find her family, though. Do you know her mother and father’s names?”
“No, I don’t.” What if she weren’t a distant relative, but a closer one? What if Cal and Troy’s father had known Amanda’s mother? Wasn’t that about the time his wife left and he was single?
“When did Mrs. Crawford leave her husband and sons?” Leo asked.
“Oh, gosh, that was a while back. Let me think. Toni was getting ready for prom. I remember because we were all talking about it at Clarissa’s House of Style. So that would have been about nineteen years ago.”
“Oh. Well, hell.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just a theory. The timing doesn’t work out, though.”
“I’ll be glad to help, but I can’t get information on people that young. Just the old ones,” his mother added with a chuckle.
“You said you had our family tree online. Do you think Amanda Allen would be in any family trees you could access?”
“She could be, but it’s accepted practice to list living people as ‘Living’ plus their last name. So, she could be listed as ‘Living Allen’ and there wouldn’t be any information about her, per se. That’s because of this whole stolen identity thing.”
“I understand. Well, thanks for the information, Mom. I’ll let you know if I get any other crazy ideas.”
“You do that, son.”
“Oh, and remember, this is just between us. I probably shouldn’t even be looking into her background, but she has me stumped.”
“Stumped? Well, that’s one way to put it.” He heard the humor in his mother’s voice. Now that Toni was married, their mother had decided it was time for him to settle down.
The problem was that he didn’t know if he was ready to “settle” for anything. He’d moved back home at a low point in his life, when he’d felt bitter and deceived. He’d worked himself out of his funk by buying the hardware store and eventually investing in and contributing to Toni’s renovation business.
He loved his hometown, his family and his friends. But he was only in his early thirties and he wasn’t sure what he’d be doing in five or ten years. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like when he was on the verge of turning forty!
“Good night, Mom.”
“Night, son.”
Leo clicked off the phone and leaned back in his chair. Another dead end. He sure wished he could discover the answers he wanted.
But then again, once the mystery of Amanda Allen was solved, would he find her so interesting?
If their kiss tonight was any indication of the passion hidden by that cute, seemingly tough exterior, then the answer was yes.
LONG AFTER AMANDA RETURNED to her borrowed condo, she sat in the comfortable living room and thought about everything that had happened that night.
She’d finally met her brother and his family. She was an aunt to two adorable children she might never see grow up, all because of choices made by her mother and father. She felt as if she were paying the price for their problems. Her father…well, she simply didn’t know much about him other than the few things her mother had told her.
He was a “hard” man. He didn’t have much joy in his life. He lived for his ranch and very little else.
Amanda sighed. She supposed her mother had made the only choice she could, but maybe, if Luanna had been a stronger person or Cal Crawford Sr. less of a hardnose, she would have grown up with big brothers.
She would be such a good aunt. She’d teach her nephew and niece about bargain hunting and play games with them. She’d listen to them and laugh with them.
But hoping didn’t accomplish anything, she told herself as she jumped up from the comfy sofa. She had a box of old postcards plus a few other items to clean and photograph. One good thing about selling online was that she could do this type of work anytime, when she couldn’t sleep or when her mind started wandering to things over which she had no control.
She cleared the desk and went to work, sorting her postcards by location since almost all of them were from the 1960s and early 1970s. When she came across one from another era, she put it aside. Soon she got into the lives of the persons who’d written these cards, imagining their travels to the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Las Vegas and the Hoover Dam. The senders had gone east to the Smoky Mountains and Atlanta, to Stone Mountain and the Blue Ridge Parkway. The children had attended summer camp, sending back postcards with scouting logos and teepees and campfires.
All these messages were sent to someone loved by the family, and then that person must have died. With them, all these memories vanished also, sold in a dusty shoe box for five dollars to a complete stranger.
That seemed so sad. By putting the postcards online, other people could bring back a bit of their childhood or tell their own grandchildren about a place they’d visited in their youth.
In a tiny way, Amanda felt connected to these families by putting their once-cherished mementos out there for everyone to share.
In her several years of selling this way, she’d never thrown away a single postcard. She’d donated some to libraries and local museums and she’d even tracked down a few people who’d originally written the cards. One lady had sent her the most glowing thank-you note for returning a packet of postcards originally written to her best friend from high school. The handwriting of the thank-you letter was spidery and faint, the language formal, but the sentiment genuine. Amanda cherished that note and still kept it with her notebook.
She looked up from sorting the postcards and was surprised to discover it was after midnight. She should probably get some sleep, but she knew that as soon as her head hit the pillow, she’d think about Leo and that kiss.
The one thing she’d tried very hard not to think about all night.
She’d been kissed many times, but never had she reacted as she had to the simple touch of Leo’s lips. To share something so special when she was vulnerable and aching had been remarkable.
She touched a finger to her lips, closing her eyes and imagining Leo’s face above hers in the lights outside Dewey’s. He didn’t understand her, but he wanted to, and that both excited and f
rightened her.
She couldn’t let him get too close for fear he’d discover her secret before she told her brother, but she craved Leo’s company almost as much as she wanted to know her family. The problem was she couldn’t be honest with him, and that was hard to reconcile.
Could she have a relationship with Leo that wasn’t based on honesty? She didn’t know.
She wished she could ask him, but how could she broach the subject without prompting more questions? He’d given her enough curious looks and asked enough probing questions already, even before they’d kissed.
Of course, she was approaching this dilemma from a woman’s point of view. Didn’t men take casual relationships more…casually? Couldn’t they separate emotion and sex more easily than women? If she could give in to her craving for Leo without giving away her heart, why should she worry so much about what he was feeling?
But could she have that sort of relationship? She didn’t know. She’d never tried before.
If Leo wanted to see her again, she’d agree, as long as she could maintain control. She sure couldn’t risk spilling all her secrets to someone not related to her mess of a family.
AMANDA WAS JUST STARTING TO make coffee when someone knocked on her door. Did Christie, Toni or Leo need to show the unit? She looked down at her jeans and sweatshirt. Presentable, if not all that fashionable. She opened the door.
“Good morning,” Leo said, a smile lighting up his handsome face as he held out a cup of coffee. “I thought you might want this.”
“Thanks! I need it,” she admitted, taking the disposable cup. “I stayed up late last night working on the postcards.” And debating whether I should have a casual relationship with you.
“What are your plans for today? More shopping?”
“No. I’m going to try to talk to someone who might have information on the person I’m researching and I need to make some other phone calls. Do some genealogy research and post all these items online.” Hopefully Myra Hammer would be home today so they could talk about Amanda’s mother’s life here in Brody’s Crossing.
Suddenly Texan Page 7
