Somewhere Along the Way

by Jodi Thomas

  Walking out of the diner, he headed toward the square and Elizabeth’s office. When he glanced back, they were glaring at each other.

  INSIDE THE DINER, DENVER FELT AN ICE STORM WORSE than he’d lived through the night before. He had no idea why Claire had come along, but he wasn’t ruling out the idea that she’d done so just to torture him. Or maybe all the women he’d spent a few nights with and left got together and wished her on him, thinking Claire rated up there somewhere in the “worse than death” category. Hell, he thought, for all he knew he’d done something terrible in a former life and this was his punishment, to fall for a woman who not only broke his heart, but painted it for the world to see.

  A sixteen-year-old waitress, obviously in her first day on the job, dropped by to try to take their order. While she chewed her gum at light speed, she admitted that she might not get it right, and would that be okay. Apparently she wasn’t willing to take the order unless some leeway was allowed.

  Denver shrugged and ordered two breakfasts, thinking he might have a third for dessert. Claire ordered coffee.

  After the girl left, he watched Claire. She didn’t look at him for a few minutes and when she did, he saw the tears floating, threatening to fall.

  Denver shook his head. “You know, I think I hate you. No woman’s hurt me in a long time like you did. Funny thing is, even though I know you’ll probably poke my eyes out, I can’t stop looking at you.”

  When she didn’t talk, Denver waved his hand. “Oh, you don’t have to say you’re sorry. I know you did it all for your art. I was just someone you needed to use as the bowl of fruit for your study. You don’t have to say you didn’t mean to destroy me.”

  The waitress delivered their drinks.

  He had to lighten the mood before he started yelling at Claire. Forcing himself to face the waitress, he asked, “Where’s Edith this morning?”

  The waitress shrugged. “She left a note saying she was taking the first bus out of here this morning. I have no idea where she is by now, but she’s definitely not in Texas.”

  “Thanks.” Denver decided not to ask any more questions. She’d already given him more information than he wanted to know.

  The waitress took the hint and moved away.

  Claire played with the tiny cream cups and didn’t look like she was following the conversation.

  Denver waited. When she didn’t say anything, he tried again. “Maybe you’ve been hurt by some guy and just figured you’d go around killing us all one at a time.” He meant to tell her off, he really did, but honesty stopped him. “You fooled me, Claire. I fell for you hard. I didn’t go further, because I didn’t want a onetime fling with you. For the first time in a long time, I wanted something that might last longer than breakfast.”

  They sat in silence for a while. The waitress delivered his food, but he didn’t eat.

  “As it turned out,” he said, “we didn’t even make it to breakfast.”

  She finally met his stare. There she was, the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. That unbelievable mixture of sophistication and vulnerability. She was the kind of woman he would have spent a lifetime trying to figure out. The kind he could wrap a life around.

  For once, he had nothing else to say. He had no idea why she’d wanted to come to breakfast with him. Maybe just to get another few minutes of torture in.

  She stared down at her fork for a few minutes, then picked it up and ate a bite of his scrambled eggs.

  He just watched her.

  When she took her third bite without looking at him, he said, “Those are my eggs.”

  “I know.” She picked up a piece of toast. “I thought you’d share.”

  He shoved the plate on her side of the table. “You’re not going to apologize, are you?” Frowning at her, he continued, “And you’re not going to promise never to do that to me again.”

  “No.” She cut a slice of his steak.

  “And I may see myself on some other canvas someday, facing another horrible death.”

  She added ketchup to his hash browns. “It’s a possibility.”

  “I don’t like ketchup on my hash browns.”

  She smiled up at him. “My hash browns.”

  “You’re not giving them back?”

  “Not a chance.” She smiled at him, her knife pointed at his chest. “If we’re to have breakfast together, you need to order another meal.”

  Denver grinned. “Lady, you’re a heartache waiting to happen.” He pulled the pancakes he’d ordered to his side of the table before she cut into them and added, “You’re not getting any of my pancakes.”

  She smiled. “We’ll see about that tomorrow.”

  Chapter 52

  SATURDAY, 10:00 A.M.

  FEBRUARY 23, 2008

  WRIGHT FUNERAL HOME

  TYLER WRIGHT SLEPT SIX HOURS IN THE SILENCE OF HIS rooms over the funeral home before Little Lady woke him up wanting out. He pulled on his jogging suit and took her out the back door. The air had climbed above freezing and the sun was shining on a snow that made the whole world look newborn.

  He checked his watch. Ten o’clock. He never slept until ten. But then he’d never manned the phones at the fire station. Surprisingly, he’d loved it. He felt like he was in the center of the action. Talking to the dispatcher, the sheriff, the men on patrol. When they’d finally found Reagan, Tyler shouted like he hadn’t yelled since his band won first in region.

  Little Lady picked her favorite spot under the eaves of the house, where the snow was only dusting the ground. Tyler waited patiently.

  “You know, Little Lady,” he said to the border collie, “you could come here to live if you like. After all, you never chew on anything or make a mess. You can reach the elevator buttons, and the families who come seem to love you.” He’d noticed it almost every time. A few people walk right past dogs, but most stop to visit. Little Lady seemed to know who needed her. She’d sit by their chair as if holding their hand through the process, and they’d reach down to pet her whenever they needed an ounce of comfort mixed in with their ton of pain.

  One man asked how Tyler got the dog, and when he told the widower, the man said, “She must have lost her owner because I can tell she knows how I feel right now.”

  When he came back a week later to pick up the ashes of his wife, he asked if he could sit on the porch with Little Lady awhile.

  The collie tugged on her leash, and Tyler started back inside. When he passed his office, Tyler realized that in his haste to get to the station last night, he hadn’t turned off his computer.

  He started the coffee and then sat down, planning to read the headlines before climbing the stairs and getting dressed for the day.

  An hour later, he was still staring at the screen.

  He’d been writing his nightly note to Kate when Hank called and told him about Reagan. Tyler had jotted down, Have to run. Emergency. Reagan Truman in danger. Then he’d clicked Send, planning to return in an hour and jot another note. But the night had been long and it was so late he’d gone straight to bed.

  Now, a message waited for him.

  Ty, are you all right? Is Reagan safe? I saw you folks had quite a storm.

  She’d answered him. After two years, Major Katherine Cummings had finally answered him.

  He made his fingers move across the keyboard. Reagan has minor cuts and bruises, but she’s safe. Sorry I didn’t get back to you. It was late when I got back.

  He wanted to ask a million questions. The most important . . . why she’d waited so long to contact him.

  Instead, he let his heart guide him. He typed: I’ve missed you, Kate.

  He clicked Send. Finally got up and poured himself a cup of coffee and sat back down as his computer dinged.

  The message read, How about you tell me all about it a week from Monday. Order me red wine.

  He typed Quartz Mountain Lodge and clicked Send.

  The message came back. I remember.

  Tyler sat back in his c
hair. It no longer mattered where she’d been for two years. He’d ask no questions.

  For now, it was enough that his hazel-eyed friend was back.

  Chapter 53

  SATURDAY, 10:00 A.M.

  FEBRUARY 23, 2008

  OFFICE ON THE SQUARE

  LIZ RUMMAGED THROUGH THE CLOSET IN HER OFFICE FOR something that looked like an eighteen-year-old would wear. She felt like she’d been run over by the snowplow. She’d spent the night worrying about Gabe and Reagan and Jeremiah. She’d called Jess so many times he threatened to get a restraining order against her phone. Then, to top it all off, her big sister shows up at the hospital this morning looking great and reminding her of how wrinkled and terrible she looked.

  This was not a good day. She wanted to go back to college, where all she had to do was study and think about who to date. Trying to run an office and manage family was stressful on a good day, but last night was crazy.

  She had learned something, though. Her family was much more than just the people she was related to in this town. “This is an impossible place to be self-centered in,” she complained aloud. “Before I know it I’ll have to give up thinking about myself all the time and start worrying about everyone else. It’s downright depressing.”

  Someone knocked on her door.

  “I’m closed!” she yelled. The last thing she wanted to deal with was the young couple wanting to rewrite their will to include the goldfish they just bought. Or the bookstore man downstairs wanting to sue the palm reader for false advertising.

  The pounding came again. “Elizabeth.” Gabe sounded angry. “Answer this door.”

  Liz waddled through the clothes on the floor of her closet and answered the door. She’d planned to tell him to come back after she’d had a shower and put on makeup and had caffeine, and decided to join the human race.

  But when she saw him, all muddy and unshaven, and adorable, she was in his arms before either of them could say a word.

  He lifted her up in a hug and walked a few steps into the office before he kissed her. And when he kissed her, all Liz thought about was herself. She felt wonderful. She loved the way he kissed her. She loved the way he touched her.

  When he finally came up for air, he whispered, “I missed you so much.”

  She laughed. “You just saw me last night.”

  “No.” He rubbed his face into her hair. “It was a lifetime ago.” He gripped her shoulders and held her away from him a few inches. “I’ve something to say, and I want you to listen.”

  “Could we have breakfast first? I’m starving.”

  “No, if I don’t say this now, I may never get it out.”

  “All right. Let me have it, but if you’re breaking up with me I think I should remind you that we’ve never really had a date. I seem to be an expert on breaking up. You are right about one thing—the morning is the best time, except of course it ruins your whole day, but it beats the night. Breakups at night are terrible. You end up crying all night and look like death warmed over in the morning.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop talking.”

  She pouted. Gabe never wanted to talk. How could he hate doing one of her favorite things in the world? She was about to ask when he spoke.

  “I think I’m in love with you,” he said. “No. That’s not right. I’m sorry. I know I’m in love with you.”

  “The like-maybe-we-should-start-dating kind of ‘I’m in love with you’ or the let’s-not-see-other-people kind of ‘I’m in love with you’?” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the third kind. The let’s-get-married kind.

  He looked as if he might shake her to see if she’d stop rattling on, but then he simply leaned toward her and kissed the top of her head. “The I-want-to-be-with-you kind of ‘I’m in love with you.’ I know we need to spend some time together before you make up your mind about me, but I’ve already made up my mind about you. I don’t want to live without you. Not today or tomorrow or the rest of my life.”

  “Well, I’m not running off to get married like Hank and Alex did a few minutes ago.” She slapped her mouth. “I promised I wouldn’t tell. After last night, they both decided they needed each other and what house they lived in wasn’t important as long as they were together. They just called me and said if anyone was looking for them, they’d fallen off the face of the earth and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

  Gabe laughed. “Back to you and me, Liz. Are you saying you don’t want to marry me or you don’t want to run away?”

  “I’m saying it’s time I stopped talking and started showing you how I feel about you.” She pulled his mouth to hers and melted against him. For once, she’d shut him up with a kiss.

  They were lost in one another when Denver tapped on the door. “I don’t understand it. You don’t even talk and every woman in this town hugs on you. I, on the other hand, am a teddy bear and get paintings of me dying.”

  Gabe hugged Elizabeth close and smiled at his friend. They were exhausted and muddy, but all seemed right with the world somehow. “How did breakfast go?”

  “I’m not sure. We agreed to have breakfast again tomorrow to discuss my meeting her in Dallas for the opening of her next show.”

  Gabe kissed Elizabeth one last time, then groaned as he pulled away. “We’re heading home to clean up. I’ll meet you back at the hospital later.”

  “What time?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Fair enough.” She pulled him back to her.

  Their kiss lasted so long, Denver got bored and went downstairs.

  On the way home, Denver was silent for a while, then finally said, “I’ve got a confession to make and I might as well do it when we’re both too tired to fight.”

  Gabe didn’t say a word.

  “I didn’t just come here to look up an old friend. I stayed in the army after you disappeared five years ago. They called me in to find you when you vanished from the hospital. I guess they knew no one else would have a chance at tracking you.”

  Gabe fought the urge to reach for his gun. He’d trusted Denver, believed every word. Now, the man was admitting he’d lied.

  “I investigated the bombing and knew you must have had your reasons for disappearing. The bombing hadn’t been random. The army knew it too. They put you on medical leave, then we went after the men hunting you.” Denver hesitated. “We found them. They confessed that the bombing was set up to kill everyone in the convoy. If we hadn’t caught them, eventually they would have found you. You were right to set up security.”

  Gabe had almost convinced himself that he’d been paranoid. He gripped the steering wheel and waited for the rest.

  Denver finally said, “You’re safe, Gabe. Whether you remember or not, you’re safe. You have been for over a year.”

  “Then why are you here? To bring me back?”

  “No. The army gave up looking for you. Me, I finally left the service and took an air marshal job, but I could never forget about you. When I traveled, I was always searching. The part about seeing your work in a graphic novel was true. I did find you by luck. The minute I read your stories, I knew it was you. You’re writing our life, our skills, our way of thinking back then.”

  “So what do you want?” Gabe tried to see his friend around the lie between them.

  “I want to tell you the army will straighten your past out if you want to go back, but I’ll not tell them. You’ve got years of pay coming, an honorable discharge, and their understanding as to why you ran.”

  “What about the name? They think I’m Wiseman.”

  “I don’t know about that. You might want to get yourself a good lawyer.” Denver laughed. “One you can stop kissing long enough to tell her your whole life story.”

  Gabe realized he didn’t need the cover of Wiseman anymore. He was Gabe Leary. He had friends. He was respected. He had a kid who thought he was her guardian angel, a s
heriff who trusted and relied on him, a lawyer who’d figure out one day that the kind of I love you he had for her was a forever kind. “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay right here. Let Wiseman vanish.”

  Denver seemed to understand. “Fair enough, but I’m still glad I kept searching for you. Friends, the kind who will cover your back, are hard to find.”

  They turned onto the road to his house. A dozen cars were scattered like toys across his land and around his house.

  Gabe frowned. “Did you turn on the alarm when we left?”

  “No. Look at all these cars. What’s going on?”

  Both men did what they did best; they observed details. Local and out-of-state tags. Old cars, sports cars, junkers, all with stickers of teams and bands on the back windows. The kind of cars high school kids drive.

  Gabe wove past them to his front door. As he climbed out, teenagers began to crawl out of every car.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Denver.

  “I have no idea. Teenagers. I’ve heard they travel in packs and eat everything in sight.”

  “But what are they doing here?” Gabe frowned.

  One boy got within twenty feet of Gabe and yelled, “It’s him. It’s him. Everyone, it’s G. L.”

  Gabe froze. The kid had one of the first comic books he’d written in his hand.

  Denver saw it too and laughed. “They’re fans, Gabriel. Your fans.”

  Another boy moved closer, a novel in his hand. “My grandfather at the post office said you looked like a farmer. Great disguise. I’ve been on the Internet for weeks figuring you out. G. L. Smith. Gabriel Leary. Right here in Harmony.”

  Gabe frowned at Denver. “So, it takes an expert to find me.”

  Denver shrugged. “A highly trained expert or apparently a kid with Internet skills.”

  Others were moving toward Gabe. All smiling. All with books in their hands.

  “I drove from Dallas,” one shouted. “Will you sign my book?”