Here to Stay

by Catherine Anderson

  “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll be on the horn in two seconds flat.”

  With a gruff good-night, Cookie followed Tucker out. When the door closed, Zach dropped onto a chair, feeling like a bag of cement mix that had just been tossed from the back of a truck. He gazed at Rosebud, now standing comfortably with one hip dropped. She sure seemed to feel a lot better than he did. She’d stopped pawing and kicking at her belly. She stood guard over her water bucket as if fearful someone might drain it while she rested. Strawberry Gatorade. Who would have thunk it?

  Belatedly Zach realized that Miranda was still in his kitchen. She stood well away from the table, arms crossed at her waist, the rounded front panels of the bolero draping over her wrists. “I’m so sorry she’s sick,” she offered in a tremulous voice. “I’ll keep her in my prayers tonight.”

  Zach fixed a blurry gaze on her delicately sculpted face. “You jerked that battery cable loose on purpose.” He didn’t pose it as a question, but he was too weary to lace the words with accusation. “You’re hoping to buy Rosebud, aren’t you?”

  Zach half expected her to lie. In his experience, most people wouldn’t hesitate. Instead her pointy chin came up. Her gaze never left his as she replied, “Lousy timing. I saw on TV that she had loose bowels, but I had no idea she was this sick.”

  Zach gestured limply for her to continue. She shook her head slightly. “It’ll wait. I just—” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, drawing his attention to her mouth, which had “kiss me” written all over it. “You see, Mr. Harrigan, my brother was blinded at six years of age. Now he’s nineteen and should be starting college, but he isn’t a take-charge individual, and he worries about finding his way around the campus. There’s just the two of us. Our mom took off when I was thirteen, and our dad—well, he’s otherwise occupied at present. Rosebud would change Luke’s life. During the newscast, you said that other people have been trying to buy her, and I—”

  “Hoped to get first crack?” Zach finished for her.

  She nodded and shrugged. “Like I said, lousy timing.” Her lips curved in a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t have much money. I thought maybe you’d agree to let me make payments.” She drew one arm from around her waist to push at her glorious mane of hair. “Now that I’m here, it seems stupid—and inexcusably presumptuous.” She bent to stroke Rosebud’s mane. As she straightened, she added, “Forgive the intrusion. Next time, I’ll behave like a normal person and telephone. I had a confrontation with Luke today about guide dogs, and when I saw you and Rosebud on TV it seemed like the answer to a prayer. You see, he was attacked by a Doberman when he was very young, and he’s terrified of dogs as a result.”

  Brain fuzzy with exhaustion, Zach settled a worried gaze on his horse. “Right now, I’m not even sure Rosebud will live, and if she does, she’ll still be a long way from being a trained guide horse. But if she lives and if I can get her up to speed, how much money I make won’t matter a whit to me. I just want a good home for her.”

  “She’s such a sweet little thing,” Miranda said softly. “If she were mine, I’d feel exactly the same way.”

  She’d lied to gain access to the property, but for reasons beyond Zach, that strengthened her case in his eyes, telling him she desperately wanted Rosebud for her brother. Someone who would go to those lengths to acquire a horse would probably go the extra mile to give it a wonderful home. Despite her poorly executed attempt at subterfuge, he decided to say what was on his mind.

  “If the wrong person offers a fortune for Rosebud, I’ll turn him down. If the right person comes along, I’ll let her go for free. Is your brother the right person?”

  Miranda’s eyes went round. “Are you serious? You’d give her away?”

  Zach nodded. “It’s not about the money. I make plenty on my big horses.” After letting that hang there for a moment, he added, “You obviously found me in the phone book. Call tomorrow to see if she makes it through the night. If she does, we’ll talk. Don’t take that to mean it’ll be anywhere close to a done deal. Rosebud hasn’t finished her training yet, and I’ll have to meet your brother to judge his suitability. Before I’ll allow that horse to end up in a bad situation, I’ll keep her, simple fact.”

  She splayed a slender hand over the center of her chest, her eyes filled with such incredulity that Zach felt oddly uncomfortable. “Thank you so much, Mr. Harrigan. I will call. You can count on it.”

  “If I turn on the yard lights, can you make it safely back to your car? I can’t leave Rosebud. She might start to roll. About all I can do is lend you a flashlight.”

  “I’ll be fine. Stay with her. It’s not that far to the gate.”

  Despite her objection, Zach rummaged in the junk drawer for a flashlight. She accepted the torch and smiled at him. “Thank you. This will be a big help.”

  Zach was too tired to muster up a reciprocal smile. He escorted her to the door, flipped on the yard lights, and then stared blearily at her through the screen. “At the gate, you’ll see a post on the driver’s side. Push the button, and the gate will open.”

  “Good night, Mr. Harrigan.”

  As she switched on the light and went down the steps, he almost told her to call him Zach, but he didn’t have the energy. “G’night,” was all he managed to push out.

  He watched the bob of the flashlight long after she was absorbed by darkness. Pretty, he thought again, and unless she was a consummate actress, that innocence in her eyes was real. Hello? She looked to be in her late twenties. How could a beautiful woman that age still be sexually inexperienced? Maybe his judgment was slipping.

  It was a question for another day. Zach returned to the table and poured himself some whiskey. Rosebud had her pain reliever; he had his. As the liquor burned a path down his throat, Zach thought of Miranda again. She’d looked so over the moon about her brother possibly getting Rosebud for free. Zach could only pray he wouldn’t have to give her bad news when she telephoned tomorrow.

  After paying the sitter, cleaning up the kitchen, and working on the computer for two hours, Mandy was exhausted but also so excited she couldn’t sleep. She’d gotten on her knees earlier, crossed herself, and offered up prayers for Rosebud’s deliverance. It had felt strange to pray after so many years of not going to Mass. But it had also felt good, driving home to her how much she missed practicing her faith. She’d quit going to church because her father was a cradle Catholic, and she’d been determined to be nothing like him. Dumb, she realized now. Why abandon her faith because her father was such a maniacal jerk?

  Now Mandy lay snuggled under her comforter, grinning like an imbecile at the crack of moonlight that leaked into the bedroom under the pull-down shade. Zach Harrigan had seen straight through her ploy to gain access to his ranch, but he hadn’t been angry. Even better, he’d implied that he might be willing to give Luke the horse for free. She couldn’t believe it. Nobody gave stuff away anymore. But if Harrigan made the offer again, she’d jump at it. Just sending Luke to college and paying for his special expenses would drain her savings and mortgage her future earnings.

  Mandy shivered. Oh, God. Would she ever forget the sight of Zach Harrigan in nothing but jeans? He had skin the color of polished teak. All that muscle. In a shirt, he looked trim and nicely toned. Without a shirt, he could make any woman’s heart skitter and miss beats. Normally Mandy didn’t feel attracted to men, but there was no denying the impact that Zach had had on her senses. She wasn’t comfortable with that and decided what she’d probably found most appealing about him was his complete and absolute devotion to Rosebud. His looks were just frosting on the cake.

  It would be hard for anyone to resist a strong, work-hardened man whose heart shone in his eyes when he looked at a sick little horse. He loved Rosebud. To him, it truly wasn’t about making money. He’d clearly meant what he said during the news interview: that he’d set out to train a guide horse because he wanted to make a difference in someone else’s life. And what if that fo
rtunate someone was Luke? It boggled Mandy’s mind.

  She dragged in a calming breath, determined to keep a level head on her shoulders. Her attraction to him was nuts. Men were treacherous. If anyone knew that from bitter experience, she did. It made no sense for her to feel so captivated by Zach Harrigan, and she was nothing if not sensible. Even so, untangling her emotions was like trying to straighten a skein of knitting yarn after a kitten had batted it into a hundred knots. Too handsome for words, caring, and gentle. And more important, he hadn’t touched the whiskey on the table. Mandy detested spirits of any kind and trusted no man who drank the stuff. Zach Harrigan hadn’t, and even she would have given him a pass tonight. A tiny horse he loved deeply was possibly at death’s door. Mandy had wished for a tranquilizer. Only for her, warm milk was the nerve-numbing agent of choice.

  Okay, okay, time to stop thinking about it and get to sleep. Luke would be yelling loud enough to wake snakes in five counties at six sharp in the morning. Time for rest now, no matter how exciting the evening had been.

  She forced herself to go still. Why had counting sheep never worked for her? Instead she conjured up little palominos and sexy cowboys as she drifted off to dream-land, smiling happily, halfway convinced that Santa Claus truly did exist, after all.

  Sometime later, she jerked awake. A noise? Mandy had been on her own for so long that she seldom got night terrors, but her sleep-fogged brain was being assailed by them now. She jerked upright in bed, heart slamming as she strained to listen. Oh, God. She heard a muffled thump come from the kitchen. Luke never got up without yelling for her to come help him, not even to go to the bathroom.

  An intruder was in the house.

  Chapter Four

  Mandy inched out of bed. Please, God, don’t let the box spring squeak, and don’t let Luke wake up. Bypassing slippers, she forced her sleep-dazed brain to focus. She needed a weapon. She’d read about women confronting assailants with hair spray, but that was beyond dumb. Besides, there was only one bathroom, and in order to reach it, she’d have to pass through the kitchen, which was where the intruder seemed to be.

  Icy sweat made her shiver. Clubbing someone with a nightstand drawer sounded less than optimal. She’d been at the receiving end of a man’s strength too many times to overestimate her own. She needed something smaller, but heavy, with a good handhold. Something that, combined with the element of surprise, would quickly disable a burglar before he had a chance to turn on her. She grabbed her bedside lamp, jerked the plug from the socket, and wrapped the cord around her wrist. If worse came to worst, the intruder wouldn’t be able to wrest the weapon easily away from her.

  Making sure to avoid the squeaky spot on the scarred wooden floor, Mandy crept to her door, which opened onto the kitchen. She’d need to take him unawares. She grasped the brass knob, held her breath to give it a turn, and eased the door open.

  A man. He was silhouetted in front of her window, tall, broad-shouldered. Memories. Oh, how she wanted to ease the door closed and lock it. Nothing she owned was worth much. Why risk her life? Maybe she could call the police. They’d arrive in five minutes. In the meantime, she could hide in the closet. She was an expert at hiding. She had perfected the art when her father was on his drunken rampages.

  Only—oh, God—Luke’s bedroom was even closer to the kitchen sink than hers. What if he heard the noise and got up? He might startle the burglar. He’d be totally helpless. Mandy had been protecting him all his life. She wasn’t about to leave him at the mercy of a possible killer just because her legs felt as if they’d turned to water.

  She drew the door farther open and raised the lamp above her head. When she was two feet from the intruder, he made a choking sound and whirled around. Only moonlight illuminated the room, but, as terrified as Mandy was, there was no mistaking that profile.

  “Luke?”

  The choking sound came again. Her brother hunched over the sink. Mandy ran for the light switch. Luke had one hand clamped at his waist while the other gripped the counter. His face was crimson with faint splashes of chartreuse around his lips. He sucked for air, and again she heard the clogged sound.

  Choking. Mandy tried to drop the lamp and couldn’t. So she raced to the sink with the cord still encircling her wrist, the lamp clunking on the linoleum behind her.

  “Luke? For heaven’s sake, what on earth?”

  She whacked her brother on the back. He coughed and gagged. Mandy stared in incredulous shock as he puked up a half-chewed mass she identified as chocolate-chip cookie. The raspy sounds as he fought for air scared her.

  Suddenly her brother caught his breath. “Sorry,” he managed. He gulped and gagged again. “You ... startled me ... choked ...”

  Mandy gave his back another whack, resisting an ill-advised urge to bring the base of the lamp down on his head. Murderous thoughts slipped into her mind. Luke couldn’t go anywhere in the house by himself, but he’d managed to find the cookies? She gulped back expletives, untangled her wrist from the cord, and settled her hands on her hips. “What is this? You’re up in the middle of the night, stuffing your face with cookies?”

  Luke gagged again. Mandy cranked on the cold water to wash away the evidence of his treachery. When he could speak, he said, “They smelled so good, and you didn’t give me any, so I came out to find them. Sorry, Mands. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  I’ll kill him. The thought sprang unbidden into her mind. Mandy booted it out, aware that her legs trembled. No intruder to take on, only her blind brother, who’d suddenly developed an amazing sense of smell, not to mention an incredible ability to find his way around the kitchen. She sank onto a chair and stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t anywhere close to being as helpless as he pretended to be. On some level, she’d suspected this, but she’d always shoved the thoughts away because she didn’t want to believe her brother was using his disability to make her kowtow to him. Now she could no longer kid herself. He used his blindness as a weapon. Against her. He’d been doing it for years. The realization bewildered her as much as it angered her.

  She checked her watch. Three o’clock. Luke insisted on rising at six. Fresh surges of rage welled within her, but now wasn’t the time to address this problem. She should wait until she was wide-awake and her heart wasn’t stampeding. Willing the tension from her muscles, she glared at her brother’s back. He still hung his head over the sink. She no longer feared that he might choke to death.

  She dredged up as neutral a tone as she could. “Well, have you had enough cookies now to satisfy your craving?”

  His hanging head bobbed up and down. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Plenty.”

  Mandy pushed up from the chair. She hadn’t known until now that outrage could make a person icy calm. “Well, then, I think we should both go back to bed.”

  She grabbed the lamp and turned to leave the kitchen. Hearing her retreating footsteps, Luke swung erect. “Well, come on. Aren’t you going to take me to my room?”

  “Don’t even go there with me,” she snapped. “You managed to find the cookies. I’m sure you can find your bed.”

  Mandy stepped into her bedroom and slammed the door shut with more force than she intended. Silence from the kitchen.

  She sank onto the edge of her mattress as realization overwhelmed her. Luke was navigating the house without her assistance. Even worse, she had put the cookies in a plastic container, and he’d still located them. Given the fact that she kept a lot of stuff in airtight plastic, Luke had to be familiar with the contents of the cupboards to identify a new addition to the clutter. How many times had he made kitchen raids? Thinking back, Mandy could recall a few times when she’d thought food might be missing, but she’d never paid close enough attention to be certain.

  Helpless? It was all an act, Luke’s way of trying to control her. A young man who could locate a bin of cookies should have no difficulty finding the wastebasket at the end of the sofa. He tossed the wrappers on the floor deliberately. If he could find cookies
, he could find the bathroom. This helpless business was a fraud.

  Thirteen years after the accident, Luke was still making her pay.

  She lay on her bed. She heard Luke making a racket in the kitchen. Well, she would not race out there. He’d just been found out and was trying to bring her back to heel. Let him stew.

  “Mandy, I fell. I’m on the floor and don’t know where I am.”

  Oh, right. “You know exactly where you are. Now get up and go back to bed.”

  “I need you. You aren’t going to leave me out here, are you?”

  Mandy wasn’t going to fall for it, not this time. “Maybe if I put a cookie on your pillow, you could smell your way back to bed.”

  “Mands, you’re just being mean. I’m cold. Don’t feel good. Please come get me.”

  And so it went until four in the morning, when Mandy’s eyelids grated against her eyeballs like sandpaper. The voices of Luke’s counselors bounced around in her brain. Don’t enable him. But, damn them, they weren’t here. For nearly an hour, her brother had been lying out there, on the linoleum, on a chill February night. What was she supposed to do, cram wax plugs into her ears and drift blissfully off to sleep?

  “Mands?”

  Hearing the tremor in his voice, Mandy sat up. Okay, I’m an enabler. So hang me. Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip. She’d tried so hard to encourage Luke to be self-sufficient, and he’d always played the guilt card. Despite that, she couldn’t leave him lying on the cold floor. Maybe when she met her Maker, she’d be condemned for going out there to help him. But what if he really had become disoriented, and she ignored his plight? Only a heartless person could do that.

  She returned to the kitchen. Luke lay on the linoleum, shivering convulsively. She knelt beside him, curled her arms around his shoulders. He was crying, and even though visions of him gobbling cookies still filled her head, she felt sorry for him.