by Brenda Novak
“She has as much right to live here as we do,” Mike said.
“Mike’s right, Dad,” Josh chimed in. “Let her be, okay? We can get the paint later.”
Coach Hill’s face turned bright red. For the first time, Lucky was seeing a crack in the family’s cool disdain. “I’m tired of you holding that house over our heads. Just leave,” he said as his sons dragged him away.
When they were gone, Lucky put a shaky hand on the paint rack to steady herself. She’d heard it all before, she told herself. She had a thick skin. They couldn’t hurt her. She’d expected this.
But something hurt—so badly she could scarcely breathe. Maybe it was the realization that, despite what had happened between them, Mike didn’t want her here, either. That night at the motel had been no more real than all the times she’d dreamed of being kissed by him the way he’d kissed Lindsey Carpenter.
MIKE’S HANDS CLENCHED the steering wheel as if someone might try to rip it away from him. He couldn’t remember ever being so angry, or so frustrated. What could he have done differently in that damn hardware store? Nothing. He’d tried to shut his father up and get him out of there as soon as possible. But it hadn’t worked….
“You’re grinding your teeth,” Josh said, riding in the passenger seat of Mike’s truck as they drove back to the ranch.
Mike didn’t answer. He didn’t want conversation. Josh might be more forgiving toward Lucky than their folks. But Mike still didn’t want to discuss her with him. Too many conflicting emotions roiled inside him—split loyalties, compassion, guilt, a desire to be fair.
“At least now you know she’s as bitter as Mom and Dad have said.”
“Bitter?” Mike echoed.
“Yeah. Didn’t you see the way she looked at us?”
Incredulous, Mike stared at his brother. “Dad attacked her,” he snapped. “She could’ve leveled him by telling him about me, but she didn’t.”
“I’m just saying there’s nothing to be upset about,” Josh said. “It was unpleasant but nothing big. She doesn’t care what we think of her or she probably would’ve told him.”
Mike chuckled humorlessly. Josh was either delusional or trying too hard to make him feel better. And if he was trying to make him feel better, it wasn’t working. Mike had wounded Lucky, and he knew it. He’d drawn blood simply by allowing that incident at the hardware store to happen.
She hadn’t even tried to defend herself….
“Let it go,” he told Josh.
“Mike—”
“What?”
“She’s a big girl. She’ll be all right.”
“I know,” he said so Josh would shut up. But he couldn’t accept such flimsy solace. Lucky wasn’t nearly as big as he was. And she had no one on her side.
CHAPTER TEN
THAT NIGHT MIKE tried to distract himself from thinking about the incident in the hardware store by calling Gabe. Dealing with his best friend and the handicap that had changed Gabe’s life suddenly seemed the easiest of several difficult situations, and Mike needed to resolve something. He couldn’t remember ever being at odds with so many people or feeling so uncomfortable in his own skin.
But Gabe didn’t answer. After three rings, his machine came on. “This is Gabe. Leave a message.”
“Answer the phone, Gabe.” Mike felt fairly certain Gabe was at home. He rarely went out, and it was getting late. “Gabe?”
Nothing.
“We’ve got business to discuss. I’ve arranged a few meetings for you.”
Still nothing. Maybe he’d already gone to bed. Or he had a saw running and couldn’t hear the phone.
Mike hung up and called again.
This is Gabe. Leave a message.
“Call me,” Mike said, then slammed down the phone. So much for resolving the ill feelings between him and his childhood friend.
Frustrated and tense, he pushed away from his desk and wandered out of his office. He wanted to go to bed and forget the events of the day. But when he reached his room, he couldn’t think of anything except the white lace panties he’d shoved into his underwear drawer so the housekeeper wouldn’t find them. Lucky’s panties.
Pulling them out, he toyed with the small scrap of silky fabric, remembering the sight of Lucky standing before him wearing nothing else. It was a beautiful image, one that instantly tightened his groin. Only it was quickly followed by the memory of the hurt that had flickered across her face at the hardware store today.
All evening he’d been recounting her sins, fighting the urge to go over to her place and apologize. Lucky had thumbed her nose at them for years. She’d refused to sell him the house he loved and left it standing vacant so long it was falling apart. She’d gloated, at times, over the fact that she’d managed to supplant him in Morris’s affections. She hadn’t even returned for Morris’s funeral after inheriting so much of his money. She’d rambled around the country as if…as if…
As if she were lost, he realized.
Sinking onto the bed, he picked up the cordless phone on his nightstand and called information for new listings. Calling wasn’t the visit he would’ve preferred, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to show up at Lucky’s door, apologize and leave it at that. As conflicted as he was about her, he knew two things. One, she hadn’t told a soul about them or she would’ve told his father today. And two, the satisfaction he’d achieved that night at the motel wasn’t nearly as long-lasting as he’d hoped it would be.
He was craving her already.
LUCKY JUMPED when her phone rang. Except for the movers who’d delivered the furniture she’d rented from a place in Boise, the contractors who’d given her bids and the bank that had made her the loan, no one had called her since she’d received telephone service. She had acquaintances all over America, but no one she considered close, except maybe her brothers. She knew she’d hear from them at Christmas, but she hadn’t even passed on her new number. It wasn’t Christmas yet.
So who was calling her at nearly eleven o’clock?
She used the remote to turn down the TV and leaned over the end of the couch to reach the phone, which sat on the floor because she had nowhere else to put it. She’d rented only essential furniture—a bed and dresser for the smallest of the bedrooms upstairs, a couch, a TV and a few lamps for the living room and a kitchen set. She didn’t want a lot to move when she painted or replaced the carpet, and this way she’d have less to return when it came time to leave.
“Hello?” she said hesitantly. After her confrontation with Coach Hill in the hardware store this morning, she feared there might not be a friendly voice at the other end of the line. Her homecoming had obviously stirred up as much anger as she’d anticipated.
“Lucky?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Mike.”
Lucky pulled the blanket she’d curled up in more tightly around her. “What can I do for you, Mike?” she asked, as if they’d never so much as kissed.
Then she remembered his father’s words: Just leave….
Wincing, she clung even tighter to her blanket. The Hills didn’t have to worry. She would leave—as soon as she found her father, finished the house and figured out which food bank or Red Cross branch needed her most.
Mike cleared his throat. “I was checking to see—”
“Whether or not I’d packed my bags like your father suggested?” she said.
He sighed audibly. “No. I’m sorry about this morning, Lucky. My father was way out of line.”
Lucky cursed herself for letting the encounter get the best of her. If only she hadn’t slept with Mike, if only she wasn’t completely infatuated with him, then she could’ve fought back instead of standing there withering beneath their scorn. “There’s no reason to be sorry,” she said. “I know I’m not wanted here. What your father said came as no surprise.”
“I wouldn’t let what happened today—”
“Thanks for calling,” she said and hung up. She couldn’t talk to Mike anymor
e. Caring about him only forced her to acknowledge that she wasn’t as indifferent to the people here as she wanted to believe. And she had to be completely indifferent or they’d succeed in chasing her away before she was ready to go.
A WEEK LATER, Mike watched Josh hand Brian to Rebecca, wondering why he’d been feeling so tense lately. Sure, he’d spent a restless night last night. Since Lucky had moved in next door, he’d spent a lot of restless nights. But work was going well. They already had more mares lined up for breeding season than ever before. And he generally enjoyed Sunday dinner at his folks’ place.
“Can I get you another soda?” his mother asked as his father dozed on the end of the couch.
Mike shook his head.
Josh sat across from him and lightly kicked the bottom of his boot. “You’ve barely said a word since you arrived.”
“I’m tired,” he said, but he was actually preoccupied with trying to figure out where Lucky had been earlier. When he’d passed her place, he’d looked for her car, but couldn’t see it. He hadn’t spotted it when he drove through town, either.
“Mike?”
He blinked and glanced up at his mother. “What?”
“What do you think of my tree?”
He studied the Christmas tree, which she’d decorated with big red bows and little tin soldiers. “It’s nice.”
“You put up a tree at the office, didn’t you?”
He had, but only because she’d called to remind him. He liked buying presents, but decorating seemed a waste of time and energy, especially when he had no children and only a handful of employees during this part of the year. He’d said as much to his mother, but she’d acted as if he’d just denounced Christianity and insisted that an office tree was important to some people. He figured she meant those in the office, because he hadn’t met a cowboy yet who cared one way or the other. “I did,” he said.
“Did you decorate it with the blue-and-silver balls I sent over last year?”
He couldn’t remember what his housekeeper had put on the tree. He’d left the task up to her and hadn’t really looked at it since. “I think so.”
Rebecca, who was gently rocking baby Brian to sleep, laughed at his response. “You should know better than to ask Josh or Mike about something like that, Mom,” she said. “Nori Stein could’ve put up a cactus for all the attention they pay to that sort of thing.”
“So, is it pretty?” Barbara asked.
Rebecca shrugged. “Nori’s not much of a decorator, but it’s not bad for an office tree.”
“It’s a great tree.” Josh spoke around a bite of homemade bread buried in jelly. “I cut it down myself.”
“Only because I insisted,” Rebecca said. “You wanted to buy a fake one.”
He managed to swallow. “I would’ve settled for buying a real one from the lot.”
“Those are old before you even get them home,” Rebecca complained. “Their needles are ready to fall off.”
“What are you giving the employees for Christmas?” Barbara asked Josh.
“A turkey, I guess.” He looked to Mike for confirmation.
“That seemed to work last year,” Mike responded.
His mother adjusted her apron. “Would you like me to make each of them a tin of fudge?”
Barbara loved feeling important to him and Josh by taking care of details they typically neglected. Mike was usually grateful. But tins of fudge suddenly seemed pretty inconsequential. Maybe it was because he was having trouble concentrating on the rituals of daily living. “That’d be great,” he said, mustering what enthusiasm he could.
“I’ll do it tomorrow.” Seemingly satisfied, she got up to take Josh’s empty plate before he had a chance to do anything with it himself.
“One more thing.” She turned back at the kitchen doorway. “Your father and I are planning a service project. The Bagleys at church are going through tough times, what with Bart beingill. Last I heard they don’t even have a tree. So your father and I were thinking we’d leave some gifts on their front porch Christmas Eve. I thought you boys and Rebecca might like to help.”
Nervous energy caused Mike to bounce his leg. He felt terrible about the Bagleys’ misfortune, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so uninterested in what was going on around him. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll donate five hundred dollars.”
Josh and Rebecca said they’d donate, too, and Rebecca volunteered to help with the shopping.
Considering his familial obligations met, Mike stood. “I’m gonna head back out to the ranch. I’ve got some work piling up on my desk.”
Shifting Brian to her other shoulder, Rebecca raised her eyebrows in surprise. “We haven’t even had dessert yet. What’s so pressing?”
“Just paperwork. Lots of…paperwork.” His voice fell to a mutter, because he really didn’t have anything all that pressing, but he didn’t care. He wanted to go.
“What’s gotten into you lately?” his mother asked, catching him before he could reach the door.
Mike paused. “What do you mean?”
“You’re acting strange.”
“What’s new about that?” Josh said. “Mike’s always been strange.”
Mike knew Josh was doing what he could to cover for him, but their mother ignored the comment. “You’ve been aloof, preoccupied.”
“You’re imagining things,” Mike said with a scowl. “I’m fine. I’ll see ya’ll later.” He slipped out into the cool evening air, and took a deep breath. But his sense of freedom didn’t last long. Josh came out of the house and flagged him down as he was backing into the street.
Letting the engine idle, Mike lowered his window while he waited for his brother to come close enough to speak.
“What’s wrong, man?” Josh asked, leaning against the door.
Mike slung one arm over the steering wheel in a deliberately careless motion. “Nothing.”
The easygoing grin Josh had worn in the house was gone. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Lucky, does it?”
“Of course not.”
“I can understand you being attracted to her, Mike. I have to admit she’s changed…a lot. But you’re not still seeing her, right? You know how crazy that would be.”
“I’m not still seeing her. I’m not even attracted to her,” Mike said.
Josh studied him a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” With a farewell thump on the truck, he walked away.
Mike cursed under his breath as he drove off. He didn’t lie to his brother often, but he’d lied to him today. He was extremely attracted to Lucky—and the more he tried to ignore it, the worse it got.
LUCKY SHIFTED in the car to better see across the street. Part of her felt like a Peeping Tom, hanging out near Dave Small’s house, hoping for a glimpse of him. The other part believed she could tell a lot about the kind of man he was simply by observing him in his own element.
The front door of the Smalls’ new stucco rambler opened and closed, and a chubby little blond girl wearing a snowsuit hopped into the yard, with a puppy bouncing after her. Dave had to be in his early sixties, so Lucky guessed this was another grandchild. Earlier there’d been several children in the yard.
A woman passed in front of the kitchen window. Lucky squinted, trying to make out whether or not it was the same person who’d arrived with the five kids in a minivan about forty minutes earlier, or if this could be the councilman’s wife. Lucky was almost as curious about Liz Small as she was about Dave. She knew his liaison with her mother was a secret, or there would’ve been some kind of public outcry, so the impression she received of his wife would figure heavily into whether or not she decided to approach him. She wasn’t out to destroy the Smalls’ marriage or break anyone’s heart. She only wanted to answer the biggest question of her life.
The woman at the window was too far away to see clearly. Tempted to pull closer, Lucky put her hand on the ignition, then hesitated when a dark sedan passed her and turned i
nto the drive.
Dave had finally joined the family gathering, she realized when a man stepped out. His hair was now sprinkled with gray, but she recognized his compact body immediately from having seen him around town when she was a child.
He dug around in his back seat, came up with a briefcase and an overcoat and greeted the blond girl who ran over to hug his leg. He looked as though he’d just returned from a long day at the office, but Lucky couldn’t imagine that he’d been working on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe he had some type of social function or he sang in the church choir or something.
She watched him carefully as he piled everything he’d been carrying into one arm so he could lift the girl with the other. As he carried her into the house, she pointed to the puppy, and he waited for the furry little creature to catch up to them before closing the door.
Maybe Booker was wrong about Dave. Dave seemed like a family man. He seemed to care about his grandchildren.
Taking a deep breath, she started her car. It was getting dark; she wasn’t going to see anything else tonight. But she didn’t want to go back to her empty house. At least here in town she could admire the Christmas lights and the plastic Santas and wire reindeer that adorned so many snow-covered lawns.
Maybe she’d drive past Garth Holbrook’s house again. She’d found his address in the phone book, along with Dave Small’s. But when she’d gone by the senator’s place earlier, it had been dark and empty. She hadn’t been able to find a listing for Eugene Thompson. She was just wondering how she might track him down when a knock sounded on her window.
Jumping at the unexpected sound, she turned to see Jon Small standing on the curb next to her car, looking far older than he probably was. Puffy bags beneath his eyes and a belly that was beginning to roll over his belt suggested he drank too much; his hair was thinning and his complexion seemed paler than she remembered.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked, his dark-blond eyebrows knotted into a foreboding slash, his breath misting on the cold air.
