Soul Reckoning

by Nancy E. Polin

  He guided the big bike away from the city, heading west on the interstate, enjoying the ride, trying to push the situation to the back of his mind. There’d be enough time to pull it back out for scrutiny. The prospect scraped his insides raw.

  It wasn’t far, but it may as well have been. So much had changed since he’d attended his grand-mere’s funeral all those years ago. Then he’d still been a husband and father, at least for a few months longer, not the breathing corpse he’d become.

  For a fraction of a second, anger surged to a knife point and he almost pushed the bike faster. Rowan’s grip on him tempered the impulse. Her fingers twisted into the cotton of his t-shirt with a strength and ferocity that described the woman perfectly. Or it could have been panic too.

  Luke grinned at the thought.

  “How much farther?” Her voice whipped out at him and it held no fear. He figured she had to be hiding it. Pride wasn’t just vanity with this one.

  “Not much.”

  A few minutes later, he left the interstate to merge onto a local highway south, reducing his speed to a crawl. Today wasn’t the day to get pulled over by small-town law enforcement.

  Luke shot a glance upward in speculation. The azure skies above them were getting shoved out by thickening gray clouds. He loved riding the bike, but riding in the rain kind of sucked.

  Too late to worry about it now.

  The town hadn’t changed, freezing in time as some rare places did. He didn’t know if it was comforting or depressing. They passed the old high school, the painting of the mascot on the side of the gym still dull and faded. Several restaurants he’d been subjected to as a kid lined the main street, punctuated with a few he actually enjoyed.

  “Did you grow up here?”

  Luke slid a glance over his shoulder, a sense of warm recollection settling over him. “Yes and no. I spent my summers here with my grandmother.”

  He nodded to a strip mall on their left. A tiny bakery/coffee shop capped the end, nestled next to a drycleaners. “The first place I got fired from when I was sixteen.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t hear an order right. When the customer asked if I was stupid, I bounced an apple fritter off his forehead.”

  “Well, I guess that would do it.”

  His laugh rang out and he was only marginally surprised to find it genuine.

  ****

  A few minutes later, Luke leaned into a right turn as homes replaced businesses. The lots were large, houses small but well maintained. He slowed past a cute brick traditional with a long driveway and birdbath. Rowan thought for a moment that he was rolling to a stop, but he kept going for another half-block before turning again.

  He pulled up to the curb before a small, clapboard bungalow. The home was painted a pale peach with white framing two large pictures windows in front. A driveway leading into a carport stood adjacent, next to a well-manicured front yard. A middle-age woman in a broad hat, a tank top, and capris tended flowers on either side of the front stoop. She stopped to twist and gaze at them.

  “What can I do for you?” She smiled and grabbed the brim of her hat when a sudden strong breeze tried to whisk it away.

  “We were actually looking for Ruth Leroux.” Luke strode forward and Rowan kept pace, pulling off the helmet and letting it dangle at her side.

  “Well…” The woman’s forehead creased in thought. “I don’t know about a Ruth, but I bought this place a couple years back from a David Leroux. Maybe he might have been kin?”

  “Yeah, that’s her son. Do you happen to still have his contact information? I hate to bother you, ma’am, but you see, Mrs. Leroux and my grand-mere were good friends. When I was a kid, I used to sit in that little kitchen in there, eating cookies and listening to them yap.” He jerked his chin toward the house.

  “So, you were in town and decided to take a chance?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Luke allowed a brilliant smile and Rowan stared at him.

  “Well, let me see what I can find. Why don’t you both come in for some iced tea? It may take a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Miss…?”

  The woman blushed “Mrs. Tulley. Rebekah Tulley.”

  “Very nice to meet you Mrs. Tulley. My name’s Luke Meunier and this is Rowan O’Herley.” He walked up the path and Rowan followed, still gaping at him.

  If he didn’t lower the charm wattage, the woman might attack him, husband or no husband. It appeared her surly bartender had gone into temporary hiding today and Rowan still felt a little blindsided.

  She stepped over the threshold into a comfortable little living area with polished wood floors, a cream-colored sofa, and the pop of a red viscose area rug beneath. High ceilings, crown molding, and recessed lighting above gave the room the illusion of more space.

  “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Tulley.”

  “Why, thank you, sweetie! I love fiddling around with design.” She disappeared into the next room. “This way!”

  Luke raised his brows and gave her a long look.

  “What? You’re not the only one who can be pleasant and cordial if need be,” Rowan muttered, scowling.

  He shrugged and paused to wave her before him.

  ****

  “It’s odd that she invited two complete strangers into her home and not only that, she served them tea and coffee cake, too.” Rowan shook her head in wonder.

  “Small towns. It’s a dying way of life.” He pulled out his phone and plugged in the number he’d been given, hoping it was current. With a mixture of relief and annoyance, he was forced to leave a message for David Leroux before shoving the cell back into his pocket. “Let’s hope he gets back or I might have to look to other avenues.”

  He went to swing his leg over the bike before realizing Rowan had stopped.

  She’d gone still, staring at nothing, expression empty. Luke acted on pure instinct. Deferring to his heart, he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Trust me. We’ll take care of this.”

  She didn’t move, arms hanging at her sides. “You know, for a bit there, I’d forgotten. And now, as I think about it, I don’t want to accept it, acknowledge it. Not in the brightness of the day. It should be a bad dream, unnerving but easy to move beyond. But not this time. He appeared to me during the day, more than once.” Rowan looked up at him, gaze roaming around his face. “Makes it easier to think I’m just nuts.”

  He ran his hands up and down her arms, his touch gentle. “You’re not nuts.”

  “How could you even know that?”

  Luke said nothing, but his face hardened.

  “And I still don’t understand you. Why are you even bothering with this? What’s in it for you, other than a major headache?”

  Unable to give her any kind of real answer, Luke glanced up when a light spray of rain flicked against him. “Let’s go grab some real breakfast. Maybe Leroux will touch base by that time and we’ll go from there.”

  He handed her the helmet, and after a moment, she obliged him by putting it on.

  ****

  It was a casual place, built out of an old two-story house with plantation shutters. Cement floors and seating with brightly colored plastic tablecloths contrasted with sunny yellow walls, but Rowan didn’t seem to pay attention.

  Luke showed her to a corner table by the window and shoved a menu in her hand. “Order something and eat before you disappear.”

  “You’re not my keeper.”

  “No, but if I’m going to the trouble to try to help you out, you could at least not starve yourself.”

  She stared at him, the lovely deep smoky mist of her eyes meeting his. Those odd dark flecks shot through them like lightning. A little tremor shook his insides, but he didn’t break the contact. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you doing this because you feel you owe my uncle some kind of allegiance? Or is it something else?”

  The server came by and Luke ordered two breakfast po’boys, a si
de of praline bacon, orange juice, and coffee. On short but quick legs, the woman swept off with a nod and a smile, and Rowan curled a lip. “Is this your plan? I get fat and drop over from a heart attack before he has a chance to do it for me?”

  “I get the feeling you’ll burn it off in angry energy alone.”

  She glared at him before offering the smallest of shrugs. “Probably. Not one of my most sterling traits. My temper, I mean.”

  Leaning back, Luke considered her. “I know I’m somewhat to blame.”

  “You give yourself too much credit.”

  The waitress dropped off their drinks and Rowan smiled in gratitude, grabbing the coffee with barely disguised relief.

  “So, I don’t piss you off?” His lips twitched.

  “Of course you piss me off. You’re not the first either and I doubt you’ll be the last. According to my folks, I was born with a hair trigger. I have gotten better though.”

  “I would never have called that.”

  When she glowered at him, he widened his eyes, midnight-blue glinting in tease. “What did I say?”

  “You’re purposely distracting me.”

  “Maybe.”

  ****

  The server came by a few minutes later with breakfast, and despite herself, Rowan’s stomach shrieked with anger and then glee. The heady aroma drifted up, catching her off guard.

  “No, but this will. Take my word for it.” He grabbed a piece of bacon first and ripped into it before picking up his breakfast sandwich.

  She analyzed what sat before her and couldn’t keep herself from digging in. Her taste buds did a happy dance, and she took another bite. She’d only be able to eat half of the huge sandwich, but what a lovely half it would have been.

  “What about you? You have any sibs?” Rowan wiped her mouth and turned an inquisitive eye on the man across from her.

  “Half-sister. Older. Lives in Ohio.” He took another bite and offered nothing more.

  “Well, as always, you’re just so forthcoming with information.” A hesitant smile played around her lips, but her breath hitched for the smallest second. Her curiosity gnawed at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask the big questions. She doubted he’d even answer.

  “I can guess what you’d really like to know.” As if reading her mind, his voice lowered into a murmur, gaze finding hers, holding, letting go.

  “It’s none of my business.” Uncertainty laced her words, but she tamped down the compassion burgeoning inside.

  Luke continued to eat, but tension settled around his eyes in the same moment he appeared to retreat to a distant time. His jaw throbbed a moment later and he shook his head as if dismissing the subject.

  She shoved back her own fears and instinctively reached out to touch his hand. “I’m sorry for what you went through. Whatever it may have been.”

  He slowly turned his hand palm up. After the slightest hesitation, she settled hers against it and his fingers curled around her. His skin was rough, a little calloused. Working man’s hands. Large and warm. Energy sizzled into her flesh, and Rowan held her breath, pulling her fixated stare from their entwined hands, up to his eyes.

  A deep, rich-blue gaze met hers, holding, burning with such intensity she couldn’t pull in her next breath, nor look away.

  When the phone rang, they both startled. He tugged his hand from hers, face hardening. She dropped her gaze, pulled in that reluctant breath and let it out in a whoosh, face hot, mind fragmented.

  Rowan was dimly aware of him speaking, but didn’t absorb his words. She narrowed her gaze beyond him, out the window, into the light. People wandered past, intent on their day and wherever it would take them. She half-expected to see the green-eyed man. When she didn’t, she half-wondered if she was making something out of nothing.

  Luke’s one-word acknowledgements and answers bounced off of her, her concentration loopy and wavering. She continued to watch foot traffic. So many different ages, shapes, and sizes, most hurrying, some idle. Her melancholy stayed with her, a blur of gray on her periphery.

  The sudden grip on her arm had her gasping and pulling to free herself.

  “Stop it. It’s just me.” Luke muttered, his voice bordering on a low growl.

  Rowan blinked, feeling an uneasy twist of embarrassment and annoyance. Her irritation fled at the sudden white pallor of his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That was Andy.”

  Her brain reached and grabbed at new faces and names, settling on one in particular. “What’s happened?”

  “Henry. We … I have to go. I can drop you off at The Goose if you want, but I need to get to the hospital.”

  Fear for the sweet little man made her throat dry and all thoughts of her boogeyman flitted from her brain. “No need. I’ll go with you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rain had heightened from drizzle to brisk drops, but it didn’t keep Luke from making good time. He found a space in the parking garage and broke into a run, with Rowan keeping up with minimal effort.

  Luke stomped past the information desk, heading toward the elevators without pause. There was no hesitation, no sense of confusion normally indicative of a hospital visit. He knew exactly where he was going and Rowan wondered how often he’d been inside the cavernous building. A raw feeling of melancholy scraped her insides when the answer occurred to her.

  He said little, but his body hummed with stress. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she reached for his hand. To her surprise, he allowed it for a short moment before pulling away when the elevator doors opened. He made a quick left, stepping through the hushed hallway, past a nurse’s station before finding Andy outside room 306.

  Rowan hung back, uncomfortable with intruding, wondering if she should have had Luke drop her off at the tavern.

  The two men shook hands as Andy raised his brows at Rowan. A strained smile lit his face. “Ms. O’Herley. My father would be pleased you came.”

  “Rowan.”

  He nodded, worried gaze leaving her and fixing on Luke. “I found him this morning. They say he had a stroke. He’s conscious, but not completely lucid. Kind of goes in and out.” He ran a shaking hand down his face. “Jenny’s visiting her mother in Baton Rouge, but she’s on her way home now. So are the girls. College kids get so busy, but they adore their papa. I know you’re pretty close with him, too, so I figured you might want to know. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. I called some of his other friends too … shit, I’m babbling…”

  “No, no. I wasn’t far. I’m glad you contacted me.” Luke peered past him through the glass walls to the figure swallowed by machines. “Jesus.”

  “They’re only letting one person in at a time.” Andy gazed at his father as well. “It’s bad when they lose consciousness. He was out when I found him. They’re pumping him full of all kinds of drugs and there might be some other kind of procedure, but…oh hell, I don’t even know…”

  When he tapered off, Luke squeezed his shoulder.

  “I’ll go get you some coffee, Andy. You look like you could use some.” Rowan offered, the urge to do something, anything, rattling around inside.

  He blinked at her. “Oh. That would be nice. Thank you.”

  Rowan caught Luke’s gaze and jerked her head to the side. “We passed an alcove down the hall with vending machines. I’ll be right back.”

  She slipped back the way they’d come, mind spinning around the morning’s events. When it settled, it landed on Henry with a hollow thump. She pictured him in her head, the crinkled face, the broad smile, how he’d endeavored to teach her to jitterbug. How he’d purposely goaded Luke into dancing with her, much to their respective annoyance.

  The vending area was off the staircase, and Rowan stepped inside, reaching in her purse for change. A parade of snacks and drinks vied for her attention and she wondered when Andy had eaten last. Maybe a candy bar or something would be good. But what if he was diabetic? She didn’t know anything about him.

>   Prickles on the nape of her neck had her pivoting, and she pressed her back into the corner, gaze sweeping ahead. From her position, she could see the heavy door to the stairs and the far-left elevator. The hum of its ascent reached her ears, as the long push bar across the stairwell entryway rattled.

  Every muscle in her body locked, including her lungs. They allowed no movement and all Rowan could do was stare, helpless in panic, but recognizing the burn of anger underneath.

  Hadn’t she wanted him to show himself just the other day? She’d been armed with her ridiculous pepper spray, ready to do battle against her boogeyman. When he did appear, she’d cut and run. In retrospect, canned cayenne was probably pretty damned ineffective on spirit stalkers, or whatever the hell he was. She’d been lucky she hadn’t inadvertently sprayed a senior citizen in her panic.

  With effort, she pulled in a partial breath, eyes fixed before her. She vaguely wondered if they’d find her passed out against machines offering stale snacks and abysmal coffee. Never before in her life had she been subject to panic attacks. It gave her new sympathy for those plagued by them.

  Another small breath, another small victory.

  The stairwell door flew open at the same time the elevator stopped at the floor with a loud ping. A family converged before her, a boy about twelve razzing a girl a few years younger with, “I beat you! I told you the stairs are faster!” while their mother rushed to hush them both.

  Feeling foolish, Rowan sucked in a huge scorching breath and took a moment to steady herself. Low burning temper had her contemplating kicking the wall, but wisdom intervened. She didn’t need any broken toes.

  She paid for Andy’s coffee and returned to room 306.

  Andy stood outside the window, looking in. His reflection projected a beaten man, hands shoved deep in his pockets, face long and haggard. Rowan would have pegged him for mid- to late-forties, but worry for his father lumped an easy twenty years on him. He accepted the hot drink with a small smile. “Thanks. That was sweet of you.”

  She nodded, stood next to him, and gazed through the glass.

  “I suppose I’m not used to my father being so helpless. I know he’s not a big man … physically, but to me, he always seemed so large and full of life.” Andy smiled and shook his head. “He has a way of manipulating you to think his ideas are actually your ideas. Used to piss me off so much when I was younger. Still does sometimes, but most of time, his thoughts have a lot of merit.”