Sunrise Crossing

by Jodi Thomas

  “Did you ever think about painting?” He broke the silence between them.

  She looked up, glad he was studying Tori’s work on the wall. She wasn’t sure she could meet those chestnut eyes. “I’ve thought of painting a few times, but it was always a someday thing and I’ve run out of somedays.” She looked at the fire, not him, when she’d realized what she’d said. All her life she’d known she would die young. She’d feared it until finally she’d simply accepted the fact.

  Laceys never grow old.

  She had no regrets...except maybe the time she missed spending with him.

  “Oh, you know.” Parker had to say something before he started asking questions. “If you don’t use a talent, you lose it. I guess I lost it. For a few years I sent art supplies and a letter asking the housekeeper to store it in the attic. I thought I’d slip away from Dallas and come here to paint.” She looked around her little house with its high windows and rooms painted to match the colors of this land.

  “Thank you for watching over this place for me, Clint.”

  “You’re welcome. Flip and I had a great time arguing about the colors to paint the walls. I wanted it ready in case you ever did come.” He stood and moved to the window. “You know, I saw you once at your gallery.”

  “I don’t remember seeing you.”

  “There were a ton of people in the place. You looked like a princess in a tower that night. I figured if you ever decided to come down to earth, you might come here.”

  “You were right.”

  He didn’t ask more about her painting. He just stared into the night.

  She wanted to know more about Yancy, but Clint was of little help. Clint wasn’t a man who talked about others. He barely talked at all. So she filled the silence, telling him about her gallery and how she’d started her own business when she inherited a little money.

  A little after ten, he stood and pulled her up into his arms. With a gentle kiss, he whispered, “I’m staying here tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch, but I don’t want to leave you here alone.” He grinned. “I’d say there is a good chance that Tori won’t be home until tomorrow.”

  “I agree. Thanks for the offer to stay. I don’t think I want to be alone in the house.” She had no idea how to tell him how much their night together had meant. She had a feeling she’d long for his warm body lying next to hers for the rest of her life. But they’d said there would be no strings, no forever. She knew it would hurt him when she left, but she couldn’t tell him why. Better that he remember her passion than think of her as sick. If he’d lost his wife, he’d already lost one love to illness. She’d not ask him to do it again.

  Her leg hadn’t bothered her lately. But Dr. Brown was still waiting for her to come back so he could make her more comfortable. Funny how not wearing high heels and never carrying a bag eased her back pain, but the knee weakness was still there.

  “Well.” Parker straightened, pulling her emotions under control. “I’ll say good-night. Thank you for all you did tonight.”

  “You’re welcome.” He waited.

  “Well, good night.”

  “You’ve already said that, Parker.”

  She forced herself to move toward the steps. “There is coffee in...”

  “I’ll figure it out.” He didn’t move. He just watched her.

  She almost said good-night again, but there was nothing else to say. He might be just downstairs but she swore he seemed a million miles away.

  When she started up the stairs, she glanced back.

  He was making a bed out of a blanket and one of the decorative pillows she’d bought online.

  “You’ll turn off the lights?” she said.

  “I will,” he answered, without looking up.

  She waited, hoping he’d say something, anything, that wouldn’t put an end to their night.

  But he didn’t.

  She climbed the stairs into the darkness, feeling hollow inside. It had been too much to dream of repeating their night in his loft. Those kinds of things happened only once, if ever. They barely had enough in common to spend one evening talking. There was no future between them—just one perfect night she’d remember. Tomorrow they’d probably have little to say and the day after that he’d go back to being a stranger.

  As she walked into her bedroom, she turned on only a desk lamp. She wanted the room to be as dark as her mood had become. She’d survived all her life trying not to feel, and she told herself she didn’t plan on changing now.

  Dressing in her colorful pajamas, she remembered how Clint had made fun of them. As she moved through her routine, brushing her teeth, putting lotion on her hands and face, she felt like he was so close, yet he seemed like a million miles away.

  When she turned out the desk lamp, she noticed only a pale blue glow of the moon through the big, curtainless windows.

  Parker had always loved the beautiful way evening shadowed the world in cool, watery blue. When she’d been a kid she’d thought of it as fairy light. She moved to the top of the stairs so she could see the color gently washing over her house, Tori’s paintings and Clint sleeping on the couch below.

  She’d have to go only halfway down to the landing. Clint wouldn’t even know she was there, but she had to see the colors of the night sky. She wanted to see her cowboy sleeping.

  Parker was almost to the landing when she saw Clint standing there, his back to her. She could see his white socks and his dark jeans that looked black now. His back was bare to his waist, and his hands were spread wide on the landing railing. His head hung low as his hands clenched on the smooth wood of the banister.

  She lowered one last step to join him on the landing. “What are you doing, Clint?”

  He took his time turning around. “I’m coming up, if you’ll welcome me.”

  Letting go of the railing, he turned and faced her. “Parker, I think I understand what you’re afraid of. I don’t want to take your somedays. I don’t want to change anything about you or your life. I just want another night with you. This night.”

  She smiled and watched him. He was asking for so little...and yet so much. More than she’d ever given of herself. Less than she’d need.

  She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone or anything in her life. She’d give all her somedays if she could say yes, but she couldn’t hurt him. He mattered too much to her.

  But one more night. One more time in his arms. Then she’d walk away. They were old enough to know nothing lasts and they were young enough to understand a need too deep to ignore.

  For once she couldn’t talk. She just stared at him.

  Finally, he snapped, “Why are you here, Parker? Did you forget something or just come down to torture me?”

  Her heart shattered as she looked at him, knowing her need mirrored his.

  “Yes. I forgot something,” she finally whispered and reached for his hand. “You.”

  Without another word, they climbed the stairs. He made it to her doorway before he pulled her against him and kissed her hard. He was starved for the feel of her, hungry for her touch. His fingers slid over the silk of her pajamas and slipped beneath to her skin.

  “I can’t get enough of you, lady,” he whispered.

  She felt her body warm to his touch and relaxed in his arms.

  “One more night,” she whispered, knowing that one more would never be enough.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Safety’s illusion

  TORI SLEPT, CURLED against Yancy. They’d talked late into the night, telling each other all the secrets in their lives. She’d cried when she’d talked about her real father and he’d held her tight like, if he could, he’d take all the pain for her.

  “My mother says I saw him die, but I don’t remember that. All I remember was standing in his w
orkshop doorway and seeing him on the floor. Dark crimson blood slowly circled round him. I didn’t scream or anything. I just watched the blood.

  “Then my mother dragged me away and screamed. She told everyone later that the sight of him had shattered me, but I think it was more that it shattered her. I just felt numb. Like, with the blood, all the color went out of my life. I wore black. I painted with blacks and grays. It wasn’t that I was in mourning. There was just no color in the world.”

  Yancy didn’t say a word. He just held her as she cried.

  “Finally, I realized my daddy didn’t die. He lives on in his work. When I designed your banister using his idea, it made me smile.”

  Yancy kissed her cheek. “He’d be very proud of you. You’re like him in your art, but you’re not like him in life. You’re stronger, Tori.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “I know,” he added. “You ran. You got away.”

  Tori smiled. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “You can do anything you want. I believe in you and so does Parker.”

  Hesitantly, they spoke in what-ifs.

  What if they promised, no matter what happened next in their lives, that they’d always meet one weekend a year somewhere exciting? Yancy said he’d pick the state fair in Dallas. Tori picked Paris near a bridge she loved.

  What if they could live anywhere in the world? Tori wanted to travel. Yancy said he’d stay right here.

  What if they got married and had kids? He wanted girls. She said definitely only boys.

  What if they moved to the country? He wanted to raise cows. She swore chickens would be easier.

  They laughed and played at arguing and held one another, but at first light, Tori slipped from his bed. She knew he’d said he would take her back to Parker’s place, but she loved to walk. In the half-light when shadows still swayed, all the world seemed newborn. She loved the sunlight crossing across the land as if, just for a moment, it tiptoed into dawn before bolting forward into full day.

  Walking had always helped her think and dream, and with Yancy, there were so many things to dream about. The idea of having days, years to paint without stress seemed a special kind of heaven. Having one person to love her, truly love her, made the world a rich place.

  She silently slipped out the side door of his place. First light. For a few minutes she thought she could see almost all the colors on earth.

  So she’d leave Yancy sleeping and hurry home before he even had time to miss her. She’d slip up to her attic studio and paint until she heard Parker banging around below making breakfast. They’d talk about all that had happened the night before. Then it was time Tori made some decisions, and no one would be more help than Parker.

  Tori left the sleeping edge of town and ran toward the farmhouse she now thought of as home, her head already full of plans.

  For a half mile, she took the empty road, listening for a car so she could vanish before it neared. By the time the sun began to peek over the horizon, she was on a path between a stand of cottonwoods and almost in sight of the private road leading to Clint’s place and Parker’s house. A few more minutes and she’d see the roof of the house. The attic windows would sparkle in the sunrise, welcoming her. Her work was there waiting for her.

  Everything seemed so beautiful. Early spring. Cool and crisp.

  She hesitated when she had to cross through the one place where the tree branches doubled across one another. It was the only part of her walk that made her uneasy. The wild branches tried to snag her and the wind always seemed a bit colder as it whipped around the buffalo grass that reached almost to her waist.

  Tori tucked her head down, pushing her chin into Yancy’s coat as if she were a turtle. She knew the path by heart, but still kept her eyes on the ground for fear she’d trip over a branch that had fallen.

  Halfway through the stand of trees she thought she heard something moving behind her. It seemed more than a squirrel skirting around her, and she worried that it was a wild pig. Those ugly animals could weigh several hundred pounds and had tusks sharp enough to rip flesh.

  Tori moved faster, wanting to be out of the trees.

  Glancing back, she tripped over a root and almost tumbled on the uneven ground. She slowed, took a deep breath and tried to calm herself and think logically. Wild pigs made noise, lots of noise. She’d never seen one on Parker’s place, much less this close to town. What she’d heard could have been caused by the wind or a rabbit or even a shy deer darting out of sight. She forced herself to calm.

  More movement rustled the dry grass. A twig snapped behind her, but she didn’t turn around.

  Tori kept moving. Not too fast or she might fall. Not too slow.

  Then, steady as a saw, she heard breathing.

  Suddenly, her world went black.

  No color.

  No light.

  Something rough and heavy was thrown over her face and yanked down over her shoulders. A rope tightened at her waist, trapping her arms inside what felt like a sack. She tried to push it away, lift it off, but the prisoning bag tightened as another strap circled her shoulders, trapping her completely. She screamed, but her cries seemed only to echo in her own ears. No one could have heard her now.

  Tori fought to stay conscious as big, beefy hands jerked her up. What felt like his shoulder rammed into her middle, knocking the air from her lungs, and a low male voice swore.

  He threw her over his shoulder as if she were no more than an empty bag as he began to run. When she kicked and struggled, he hit her hard on the bottom. “Give me any trouble and you’ll regret it.”

  She kicked harder, getting in a few blows on his leg.

  Suddenly, he swung her down and held her tight on each side until she got her footing. “I told you not to give me any trouble.” He released his bruising grip on one arm. “Maybe we should get something clear before we go any farther.”

  A moment later she felt what had to be his free hand slam into the side of her head. When she cried out, another blow hit her just below her chin, sending her head snapping back.

  “I’m not putting up with any crap from you.” His voice echoed around her now. “You come easy now, girl, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

  Tori barely felt the third hit; she’d lost her fight. She tumbled into a well without sound, feeling or thought. She gave no resistance as his hands grabbed her again and tossed her over his shoulder.

  The last picture in her mind, of Yancy sleeping in his multicolored room, melted away like old crayons left on a summer sidewalk.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  FIFTH WEATHERS FELT like something was wrong before he even made it down to breakfast at the bed-and-breakfast. He hadn’t heard one sound from the professor’s room last night after he’d come in. The guy was a pacer, a light sleeper who often went down for a snack in the middle of the night or clicked his lights on or dropped papers or dressed in the middle of the night and took a walk.

  Last night Fifth hadn’t heard anything. Not even the shower running at six, as it usually did. This mystery man, with holes in his past, reminded Fifth of one of those portraits in a horror gallery, the one that looked sweet until you stepped closer and a skeleton appeared behind the harmless face.

  When he passed the professor’s door, Fifth thought of tapping on it. He’d already tried the knob on his way to the shower. It was locked. By the time Fifth sat down to the empty table at breakfast, he’d decided Professor Gabe Santorno was either laid out dead on his bed or he hadn’t spent the night in his room.

  Where would a harmless bookworm like him go? Fifth couldn’t even imagine the guy picking up someone in a bar and going home with them. He might have been a ranger years ago, but he was a professor type now even if he didn’t have a class to teach.

  “Morning, Fif
th.” Daisy was as cheery as ever. “How’s the morning treating you?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. In truth, he was counting the hours until Friday night. “How are you?”

  “Can’t complain.” She set down his usual three eggs, toast and half-dozen sausages. “Philip from the bakery was late delivering our rolls this morning. Seems some farmer who dropped in for coffee at dawn swore he saw a man running near the north road carrying a body. Philip felt the need to stop and tell everyone on his delivery route the frightening news. It’ll probably be noon before he makes it to the school.” Daisy straightened as if doing her duty. “I told Philip the person he needed to tell was you or the sheriff. He said he would as soon as the office opened.”

  “He could call 911.”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that even if he was on fire, having a heart attack and taking gunfire. Philip used to date Pearly. He swore he’d never talk to her again, and since she’s the only 911 operator, we just all have to pray he doesn’t have to face an emergency.”

  “What about the farmer? He could call.”

  Daisy shook her head. “No. He told Philip. That seemed to be enough. He’d be burning daylight if he hung around until eight.”

  Fifth would have been worried, but Daisy had a new story every few days. Last week she’d claimed an egg-sucking dog was breaking into houses, gobbling up eggs by the dozen, and last month she’d heard some nut was poisoning the water supply just because he couldn’t get his cable to work.

  He’d head into the office and find out what was going on as soon as he shoveled down a few bites.

  When he swallowed, he asked, “Is the professor up and gone this morning?” Fifth kept his voice from sounding too interested in the answer.

  “Haven’t seen him.” She shrugged. “Come to think of it, I didn’t hear him unlock the front door last night. I always hear that lock clanking like it’s a gate on the Tower of London. One of these days I’m going to replace it, even if Rose does think the old thing makes the door look quaint.”