by Brenda Novak
WHEN LUCKY AND MIKE ARRIVED at Senator Holbrook’s house, Mike had to force himself to press the doorbell. He didn’t want to confront Garth with what he knew. Worse was the thought of encountering Celeste and having to pretend nothing was wrong. But Lucky said the senator was the only other person she’d told about the journal. Which meant he either had it, or for Gabe’s sake, he should know it was now missing.
“Hi, Mike.”
Mike swallowed a groan when Celeste answered the door and did his best to return her smile. “Hi, Celeste, how are you?”
“Good.” She looked curiously at Lucky. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Lucky Caldwell.”
She nodded graciously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucky.”
Mike knew Celeste must’ve recognized Lucky’s name and had to be astonished to see them together. But her impeccable manners wouldn’t allow her to give any of that away.
“Are you two enjoying the holidays?”
Mike wasn’t sure he could claim true enjoyment. This year, the holidays had had their high points, but they’d also had their lows. Too much had happened. But small talk was small talk. “We are, and you?”
“It’s been wonderful to have Garth home.”
“I’ll bet.” He hoped she’d continue to be happy about that, but a lot depended on the missing journal. “Is the senator here, then?”
“He is. Please, come in.” She ushered them into the marble entryway Mike had seen so many times growing up. It still had the high ceilings and tall mirrors he remembered, but the sculpture on the pedestal in the center had changed. Celeste had always supported local artists. Sculptures, ceramics, paintings of all kinds filled her home. “I’ll get him,” she said and hurried off.
Mike exchanged a meaningful glance with Lucky. She seemed different all of a sudden, more nervous than she’d been at Dave’s. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance just as Senator Holbrook came from somewhere in the back of the house.
“Hello, Mike.” Garth’s tone was cautious, his expression guarded. His eyes cut briefly to Lucky, but he didn’t greet her. “What can I do for you?”
Celeste had accompanied him, so Mike chose his words carefully. “I’ve got some fund-raising concerns I’d like to go over with you, if you’ve got a minute.”
Again his eyes flicked toward Lucky, but he spoke to his wife. “Celeste, would you be so good as to bring our guests some of that delicious spiced cider you make every Christmas?”
“Of course, dear.”
“Thank you.”
As she left, Senator Holbrook escorted them into his study. Once he closed the heavy mahogany door, he leaned against it, waiting for Mike to speak.
“Do you have it?” Mike asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The trees outside the only window blocked the sun, making the room darker than the entryway. Mike couldn’t read Garth’s expression well enough to judge his veracity.
“My mother’s journal,” Lucky said.
“Someone broke into her house last night and took it,” Mike explained.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, but he didn’t seem distraught in the least, which told Mike everything he needed to know.
“We wanted to alert you, just in case,” Mike said and then, because he was so disappointed in Garth, he added, “For Gabe’s sake.”
Holbrook didn’t speak for a second. Finally, he said, “Mike, I—”
The sound of Celeste’s heels, clicking across the marble entryway, intruded.
“Never mind.” Holbrook moved away from the door. “Thank you for the visit.”
Mike nodded and waved Lucky out ahead of him.
Holbrook seemed to be struggling with the role of cordial host and didn’t even follow them out. But they immediately encountered Celeste, who was carrying a tray with a pitcher and mugs.
“Oh! You’re leaving already?”
Mike gave her his kindest smile. “We just had a quick question.”
“Don’t you want to stay for a cup of cider?”
“Maybe another time,” he said. “You and Garth go ahead. We can show ourselves out.”
She seemed torn, but her hands were full and Garth, who was still in his study, was obviously her priority. “Well, thanks for coming.”
Mike nodded, and her gaze fell to Lucky. “You’ve become a beautiful woman, Lucky.”
“Thank you.” Lucky seemed to have difficulty meeting her eyes, and Mike could understand. It wasn’t easy to accept Celeste’s kindness when they were sheltering such a terrible secret. He thought he could understand, a little, how disloyal Lucky had felt toward Morris for holding her tongue as a young girl.
“Enjoy the rest of the holidays,” Celeste said, and gave them a parting smile.
MIKE INSISTED on helping Lucky straighten up everything that was at the Victorian. She knew he should probably go home. With Orton’s involvement, the missing journal and their visit to the Holbrooks hanging over them, they were only begging for more trouble by spending so much time together. But Mike hadn’t mentioned leaving, and Lucky didn’t want to be the one to bring it up—not when being with him was the only thing she really wanted.
“Do you think Senator Holbrook was embarrassed that you know?” she asked as she dished up the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole she’d made during the previous two days.
Mike was sitting on the couch in the living room, watching her. “He was feeling something. I’m not sure it was embarrassment.”
“He didn’t ask you not to tell Gabe.”
“He knows I won’t tell anyone because of Gabe.”
“Yeah, I guess you made that clear.” She put the first plateful of food into the microwave so she could heat it up.
“Why did you tell Holbrook about the journal in the first place?” Mike asked.
Lucky kept her face averted so he wouldn’t know what a disappointment her conversation with Holbrook had been. “I wanted him to take a paternity test.”
“He declined?”
“He offered me two hundred thousand dollars to go away.”
Mike didn’t respond for several seconds. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.
“It’s okay.” She tried to act flippant about it, but Mike was beginning to know her too well. He got up and walked over to her. Circling her waist with his arms, he pulled her back against his chest.
“I know it doesn’t change the way that encounter must have felt, Lucky, but he has a lot to lose,” he said, kissing her neck in consolation.
“Too much, apparently. Seems like everyone who associates with me has too much to lose, doesn’t it?”
She laughed, but she knew he’d drawn the connection to himself when his arms tightened. “It’s not fair to either one of us that your mother made such a terrible mess of everything.”
Lucky put her hands on his arms, reveling in the solid feel of him behind her, the comfort of his solace. “She wasn’t all bad, you know.”
She’d spoken the words so softly she wasn’t sure he’d heard until he responded. “Tell me some of the good things.”
That he was even willing to listen surprised Lucky. She leaned her head on his chest and closed her eyes, searching for happy memories. Somehow the bad ones were so much easier to remember. “She kept me and my brothers together, for one.”
His lips moved at her temple. “That’s definitely a good thing.”
“Occasionally, she’d buy me a small present, some little treat she’d bring home.”
“I like that, too.”
“She always made a fuss over my birthday. She let me dress up using all her costume jewelry and high heels, and play with her makeup. She didn’t care if I ate cake batter instead of baking the cake. And she never made me feel bad that I couldn’t stay on a diet—” A lump suddenly swelled in Lucky’s throat, making it difficult to continue. But the fact that she could continue, that there were more positive thin
gs she could say about her mother, made a real impact on her. “She thought I was beautiful. She was proud of me even when I was fat and ugly—”
“Whoa!” He squeezed her reprovingly. “I don’t like hearing you say that about yourself. Maybe she saw what I can finally see.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
He turned her in his arms. “The beauty of your heart.”
The lump in her throat grew larger. She attempted a watery smile as he brought her face up with one finger. “Your mother might not have been perfect,” he murmured, “but she loved you. And I can forgive her because of that.”
He’d said something profound, something that spoke to Lucky on a very deep level. Caressing his whisker-roughened cheek with the palm of one hand, she gazed into his eyes. “Can you really, Mike?”
He nodded.
“If you can forgive her, maybe I can, too.”
“It’s worth a try.”
Lucky ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her. She felt his body respond, felt her own pulse quicken, but the telephone interrupted them.
Reluctantly, she pulled away, wiping her eyes, and reached for the cordless phone on the counter. “Hello?”
“Lucky, it’s Josh. Is Mike there?”
Lucky didn’t know whether to lie or not. When they’d returned from Holbrook’s earlier, she’d insisted they leave Mike’s truck at the ranch and walk over to her place. As far as she knew, there were no telltale signs that they were still together. But they’d been seen in town by both the Smalls and the Holbrooks, and if Mike’s truck was at home and he wasn’t, where else could he be? Josh would know he wasn’t out with the horses. “Just a minute,” she said, opting for the truth.
Mike looked at her curiously as she handed him the phone. “It’s your brother.”
He gave a persecuted sigh before bringing the receiver to his ear. But his expression soon changed. “What?…You’re kidding. Are you sure?…When?…Where does he think she is?…Okay, I’m leaving now.”
Lucky held her breath, waiting for the bad news. “What is it?” she asked the instant Mike hung up.
“The fact that we’ve been seeing each other is all over town. Someone at the beauty shop told my mother while she was getting her hair done. She was pretty upset when she left, so Rebecca called to tell my dad she was on her way, but she never arrived.”
“Where do you think she is?”
“I have no idea, but everyone’s searching, and I’m going to go help, okay?”
“Of course.” Lucky grabbed his hat from the counter and put it on his head. “Be careful.”
He kissed her, promising he’d call her as soon as he found his mother, and hurried out. She thought she might have a long wait before she knew what was going on.
Fifteen minutes later someone rang the bell.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LUCKY OPENED THE DOOR to see Barbara Hill on her porch.
“Oh…hi,” she said, her ulcer voicing a sharp complaint at the sudden tension that gripped her.
Barbara stood ramrod straight, her hands clenching her purse in a death grip. Lifting her chin, she cleared her throat, obviously finding it difficult to speak. “Is it true?” she said.
Lucky knew Barbara was asking about the nature of her relationship with Mike, but she didn’t know how to answer. Was it true that Lucky had fallen in love with him? Yes. Years ago. Was it true they’d been seeing each other since she’d returned? Yes. Often and not casually. Was it true that Lucky expected something permanent to come of it? No. She couldn’t ask Mike to stand against his family, against all of Dundee. And she knew he’d never leave this place. His business was here. His brother was here. The land was part of him.
“No,” she said simply. If they had no future together, the rest didn’t matter.
“You’re not sleeping with my son?”
Lucky drew a deep breath. She wanted the pain to stop—for everyone. But she couldn’t say her relationship with Mike wasn’t of a sexual nature when Mike had already admitted to Officer Orton that it was. “We’ve been together a few times.”
Barbara winced and closed her eyes, so obviously and deeply betrayed that Lucky couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. “Does he care about you?”
He did care. Lucky felt quite certain of that. But she knew it would only hurt his mother to hear it. “No.” She shook her head. “It was all me. I—I’ve loved him since I was little. But you don’t have to worry. I’m leaving town today, and I won’t be coming back.”
Her complete surrender left Barbara with nothing to fight about. “Thank you,” she said quietly, stiffly. Then she left.
Watching her go, Lucky managed a sad smile. Barbara had believed that her relationship with Mike was one-sided because she’d wanted to believe it. Mike had always been such an ideal son, she couldn’t not believe it. Which was good. If Lucky took the blame, Mike and his family would be able to patch things up and withstand the gossip.
She just had to keep her promise to leave. The sooner the better. Before she had to tell Mike goodbye.
THE NUMBNESS THAT SEEMED to take over the moment Barbara Hill’s car disappeared from view made it easier for Lucky. She refused to think while she packed, refused to look at the ranch next door as she loaded her Mustang. She simply left the key to the house above the door so Mr. Sharp could finish up, and drove away. Once the improvements were complete and the rental company had reclaimed their furniture, she could contact Mike about selling. She knew she wouldn’t be able to speak to him anytime soon, not without breaking down. She could only hope the ensuing weeks would give her a chance to pull herself together before she had to deal with the past again.
The wind that flooded her car as she drove, with both windows down, nearly froze her despite her hat, scarf and heavy coat. But she didn’t close the windows. The cold helped her stay numb, which, at this point, seemed infinitely preferable to feeling.
It wasn’t easy to pass the businesses as she drove through town and to realize she’d never see them again. Booker Robinson honked and waved as they faced each other at Dundee’s only intersection, but she couldn’t even wave back. The cold had turned her blood to ice. She felt as if she could hardly move, except to press the gas pedal and put as many miles as possible between her and this town.
Briefly, she wondered where she was going. But that seemed too big a decision to make right now, while her brain was functioning on automatic pilot. She’d go wherever the highway took her and get a motel room when she became too tired to drive.
Finley’s came up on her right, the Arctic Flyer on her left. Hair and Now, the library, the Honky Tonk. Lucky wanted to find the anger she’d felt when she’d left Dundee at eighteen; she wanted to hate this place. But she couldn’t. The hate and the anger were gone.
Now all she had was a broken heart.
BARBARA HILL SPOTTED Mike’s Escalade in her rearview mirror just after she pulled out of Finley’s parking lot. She couldn’t see his face very clearly, but she could tell he wasn’t smiling. She wondered whether he’d spoken to Lucky after she did, whether Lucky had told him about her visit. She hoped not. If Lucky would only make good on her promise to leave right away and not come back, Barbara felt they could ignore the fact that she’d ever returned in the first place.
Barbara didn’t like the picture that came into her mind when she thought of her son with Red’s daughter, but Mike was single and nearly forty years old. It probably wasn’t any big deal that he’d had a fling with a girl like Lucky. If only Mike had been more discreet, Barbara wouldn’t even have had to know. As long as Lucky wasn’t a real threat to her son’s heart, she preferred not to know.
Mike followed her all the way home, where she found Josh’s truck already parked out front.
Once she pulled into the drive, she took her time getting out.
“Where have you been?” Mike asked, meeting her as she opened her car door.
She nodded toward the backseat. “Could you grab the gro
ceries?”
“I will as soon as you answer me.”
“While I was getting my hair done, Sheila Holley mentioned that you’d gotten into a scrape with the Smalls, so I stopped by the police department to talk to Officer Orton.” She left out the part about driving to the Victorian afterward. “You know his wife’s a friend of mine. We sing in the church choir together.”
Mike studied her as though trying to read her thoughts. “You should’ve called Dad. We were worried about you.”
“Why were you worried? I’m fine. And you’ll be glad to know that while I was at the police station, Dave Small called. Smalley’s dropping the charges.”
He didn’t seem particularly relieved, but he retrieved both bags of groceries. “Good. Now I won’t have to file charges against them. They were in the wrong, not me.”
She realized he probably expected her to request his side of the story, but she already knew Lucky played a significant role in it, and she didn’t want him to talk about her. She didn’t want to hear how he’d defended her. She didn’t want him to so much as mention Lucky’s name. She was too afraid she might detect something in his voice she’d rather not hear.
Lucky was leaving. Nothing else mattered.
“All’s well that ends well, I guess,” she said and started up the walkway.
He followed her with the groceries. “All’s well that ends well?”
She turned back and actually managed a smile as the tightness in her chest—the panic—slowly receded. Everything was going to be okay. Lucky might be a lot of things, but she’d seemed sincere about leaving. Soon, the world as Barbara knew it would return to normal. “Don’t you agree?”
“Mom, I think maybe it’s time for us to talk about—”
“I don’t want to know any more, Mike.” She opened the front door and waved him into the house. “I’ve heard enough for one day.”
He frowned before walking past her. “That’s all you’ve got to say to me?”
“That’s it. Now let’s eat. I bought some seasoned tri-tip steak that should be fabulous.”
