by Jodi Thomas
Tim nodded. “Right. She was built to go full throttle. I don’t even think she comes with brakes. Before I could even think about what to do next to her, she was already doing it to me.”
“And did you like it?” Lauren asked.
“Of course. It was wild. Remember the last girl I went out with? I politely asked if I could kiss her and she said, ‘Do I look that desperate?’ Nothing gets a guy over that kind of hit like a girl climbing all over him. Polly even ripped two buttons off my shirt.”
“Are you interested in her?”
“I was. I am,” he admitted. “But I don’t want it to be that way between us, at least not all the time. If there is ever going to be an ‘us,’ I want more out of it than just make-out sessions. I get the feeling, that for Polly, relationships are measured in hours, maybe minutes sometimes. I don’t want that with any girl.”
“What do you want, Tim?”
He was quiet so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, “I want someone to hang out with, to talk to, to fall asleep with during a late movie and to have sex with. I want to know that sometimes it’s making love and not just sex. I want the whole package deal. I want to grow into loving someone so much that I can’t imagine spending my life without them. When I’m old, I don’t want to just remember the wild times I had in college, I want to talk about them with the person sitting next to me.”
“You’re one in a million, Tim. How could any girl not love you?”
He laughed. “I can think of one. Polly took ‘slow down’ for goodbye. When we head back tomorrow, she’ll probably be riding with you. I don’t think she wants to ever see me again.”
He leaned back and put his head on her outstretched legs. “I did enjoy it tonight for a while. Polly’s breasts are small, but...”
Lauren covered his mouth with both her hands. “TMI, Tim!”
“Sorry, L. I thought we could talk about anything with each other.”
“Not my roommate’s breasts, okay?”
“Okay, but you don’t have any problem with me thinking about them, do you?”
Lauren kicked him off her legs and stood. “I think you and your frozen butt had better head home.”
He stood and offered a hand to help her off the rock. “All right. See you in the morning. My mom’s sending over cinnamon rolls for breakfast. The plan is to help Polly study until it’s time to head back to school.”
Lauren walked home thinking how Lucas had put his hand over her breast last weekend and wondered if he’d told anyone about it. She doubted it.
If she ever saw Lucas Reyes again, maybe she’d ask him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Carter
DAWN BROKE THROUGH a web of gray clouds, and Carter Mayes knew he wouldn’t be walking the canyon today. He was too old to get wet this time of year when the wind blew cold from the north and any moisture rested against his bones. Reason told him it was about time to head back to Granbury and his daughters. Before he could get settled in there, it would be Thanksgiving.
The holidays were always painful in a good way. He missed his wife’s pumpkin pie and the way Bethie always got excited about putting up the old Christmas tree as soon as the Thanksgiving dishes were put away. He missed how she talked about what to get her daughters and how she always watched everyone else open gifts and forgot her own. Each year was just as painful as the first one he’d had to go through without her, but it was a good pain. He wouldn’t have missed the memories even if he had to live another ten years with the loss.
Mostly he liked the winter months when he had time to read and play cards with friends at the trailer park, but he usually spent the afternoons napping and waiting for spring. His hunt for the white stick figures on the wall of a cave far northwest of Granbury had long ago become his only mission. The hollow-eyed bony skeletons no longer frightened him as they had when he was a boy. And the nightmares he endured in ’Nam, where the stick figures managed to come with him, were long gone. Now his goal was simply to find a memory, a slice from his childhood.
Funny, how one little thing follows you all your life, he thought as he stared out the café window at the rain falling. Now and then a drop shattered on the sidewalk as if it were made of crystal. The first hint of snow moved in with the rain, but he wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
He hadn’t told anyone about what he’d seen as a kid until his wife died. Got too busy living life to worry about the stick men painted hundreds of years ago.
When he’d told his daughters, they’d been all for him spending a summer searching, but as the years passed, they’d tried to delay his trip each spring and always called wanting him home sooner.
Carter didn’t know how to tell them that he felt more alive searching one day than he felt all winter waiting.
“Howdy, partner,” Vern Wagner called over when he came in the front door of the café. He took off his hat and shook like a dog coming out of the rain. His skinny, tough body reminded Carter of a thick slice of wet jerky.
“Stop that, Vern Wagner,” Dorothy yelled from the pass-through. “You’re getting water all over the floor. At your age I can’t tell if you’re trying to get dry or having a stroke.”
“Coffee!” Vern yelled back as he limped toward Carter. “When it gets cold, my joints start to rust up.”
By the time he made it to the table, a waitress was pouring him a mug of hot coffee.
“Pour an extra cup. Jake Longbow is climbing out of his truck.”
The new waitress who’d replaced Sissy last year glared at Vern as if she thought she might be wasting a cup. “You gentlemen just having a cup or planning to wait out the rain?”
Vern grinned. “I’ve been waiting out the rain all my life. Make a fresh pot, darlin’. We’re going to be here awhile.”
Carter tried to figure out if she thought Vern was lying about needing the extra coffee or if the old man climbing out of a huge truck might not live long enough to drink it. He’d seen the trucks before, huge Dodge Rams with a Double K brand. The Kirkland Ranch.
Jake Longbow walked slowly in the rain, enjoying the stroll. His Comanche blood showed in his high cheekbones and long nose. He’d tanned over a dark complexion for so many years his skin looked more like bark. Vern might be a cowboy who loved the land, but Jake Longbow was different. He seemed more a part of the land, a part of all around him, even the storm.
While Jake hung up his hat and coat on the rack by the door, Vern pulled out an old map wrapped in plastic and spread it out on the table in front of Carter.
“Longbow and I have been talking, and we think we can find that rock corral you talked about. The road heading out in that pasture was fenced off fifty or so years ago, but we could get close to it on a four-wheeler.” Vern stopped long enough to down half his steaming coffee.
Carter decided Vern’s lips hadn’t just thinned out over the years. He must have burned them off drinking coffee. Carter cleared his throat as Longbow sat down. “I want to thank you two for agreeing to meet me here. It means a lot to me. I’m not even sure which canyon around here the cave might be in. But I do remember that I saw rocks in a square the next morning.”
“No problem,” they both said at once.
Three gray heads leaned over the old map and began to talk. Their knowledge of the land and the history of the canyons blended with their familiarity of maps.
Carter could feel his goal almost within reach. If the first snow would hold off until after Halloween, he’d have time for one last search before winter.
Vern downed the rest of his coffee and motioned for the waitress to bring more. “One thing we’ve decided, Carter,” he said. “Me and Jake are going down with you. Three sets of eyes, even my nearsighted ones, are better than one. If we find the rock corral, we’ll know we’re close to the cave and, i
f you’ve no objection, we’ll climb down with you.”
“I’d be honored to have you along on this crazy journey.”
All three smiled. For a moment they weren’t three old men in their seventies. They were wild boys looking for an adventure.
That night Carter dreamed of the stick men dancing. In his dream he imagined that they’d be as excited to see him as he was to see them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Angie
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Agent Dodson called Angie at work. He told her the case against her uncle was progressing. The ledger helped them follow the movement of money through her uncle’s company. Apparently, her uncle was only one link in the chain, and they planned to pull several people in with the net they’d cast.
When Angie hung up, she thought of calling her aunt back in Florida, but she decided they weren’t really part of her family anymore. They’d proved that by sending someone to track her down and harass her. The ledger her father kept wasn’t part of the official books and if her uncle hadn’t been doing something wrong he wouldn’t have worried about it.
She had the feeling that her aunt and uncle would try to blame everything on her father. After all, he was dead, he couldn’t defend himself. Maybe they’d planned that from the first and deep down her father knew if he exposed what was going on he’d be the one to take the fall. If so, his getting killed must have messed up their great escape plan if the smuggling was discovered.
All her life Angie had wondered if there was a place she could find where real people lived who cared about one another. A place where being related wasn’t an obligation, but a blessing and a true friend.
She’d found it here. There was no need to look back. Dan, Wilkes, the volunteers, even Uncle Vern, didn’t have to help her, they just did.
Her cell rang.
She picked up, smiling. “Wilkes. Did you find my cat?” She’d dropped by his place twice and both times they couldn’t find Doc Holliday. Vern swore he’d seen the cat around and all Doc’s food had disappeared from the porch, so Angie wasn’t too worried.
“Yes, I finally found the darn cat. He was up in the barn loft playing poker with my wild cats. He’s okay, but I think he’s about half drunk, because he’s walking funny.”
“Don’t let him out of the house again.”
“I won’t. How about I bring him over to your place when I pick you up for that dinner in Lubbock I promised you?”
She hesitated. “Would you consider dinner at my house? I haven’t really had a chance to cook there and it might be fun.”
“You mean just me and you alone? No one else to talk to. Nobody watching us. I might consider it. What time?”
“Seven.” She giggled. “And the only company we’ll have will be Doc.”
Angie thought all morning about what she’d cook and how Wilkes would look sitting at her little table in her little cabin. She even rushed home at lunch to put the sauce in the slow cooker so it could simmer all afternoon.
She’d also thought about their bargain. She had all the control and he’d said he’d welcome her kiss or touch at any time.
She’d always been shy, never knowing where she stood with a man. Some must have thought she wasn’t interested, others tried to move too far, too fast. One of her greatest fears in dating was that she’d make the first move only to find out that the guy didn’t see her in that light. Wilkes had made it plain how he felt about her and that she’d be the one to set the pace.
Every time they’d been together he’d found a way to touch her. At first she hadn’t seen the attraction. His first kiss was hesitant when they’d meet. But the last one had warmed her to the bone. She’d relived it several times a day since that night, but it was his touch that caused the slow heat moving through her body. His hand on her waist warming her even through her clothes. The way he leaned into her as if he wanted no space between them. And when he pulled her against him, their communication became full body contact.
Angie stood and turned down the heater. It might be a cold day, but she didn’t even need to wear a sweater. Tonight, she’d surprise him. She’d take that power he’d given her.
She might not be long-legged sexy Lexie Davis, but she might try to be bold for once in her life. After all, Wilkes wanted her. He’d never suggested that she change a single thing. He wanted her just the way she was.
For the first time in her life, Angie felt beautiful.
By the time she left work an hour earlier than usual, the rain had slowed. She stopped for fresh vegetables and a bottle of wine, then decided to drop in at Forever Keepsake to borrow as many quilt frames as they could loan her. The museum’s theme of Country Christmas was taking off with all the volunteer staff. If they planned to have everything up by the first week in December for the party, the ladies auxiliary had to start now.
The Franklin sisters greeted her with hugs. They were so excited to be able to help. As they worked wrapping old frames up to fit into her van, one of the sisters asked her how Wilkes was.
Angie didn’t want to talk about their strange bargain, so she picked another subject. “He was in Austin for a few days last week trying to help Yancy Grey with a project he’s been working on. He’s looking for anyone who might know who owns the Stanley house. You know, the old fallen-down place out on the north road.”
Both sisters stilled, listening to every word Angie said.
“Yancy feels a pull from the old place and has no idea if it’s a blessing or a curse. He says he’s got to find out what happened to the family who lived there. It seems to have become a quest.”
Both sisters stared, wide-eyed as if Death walked across in front of their store window. Rose Franklin finally asked, “You’re talking about the old place they call the Gypsy House?”
Angie nodded.
“I don’t know Yancy, just seen him from a distance a few times, but I think he would be better off to forget about that place.” Rose looked frightened. “Bad blood must have been sprinkled there. It would do no one any good to look into the house’s history.”
Angie decided she’d better agree. “You are probably right, but he’s determined. Do you two know anything about the place?” She knew they did. She could see it in their faces and body language. The two sweet ladies seemed to be on guard.
Rose straightened. “This Yancy’s not from around here. I heard he just rode in on a bus and stopped here by accident. That old house should have been torn down years ago.”
“I’ll tell Yancy Grey that,” Angie said. “But I don’t think it will stop him from searching.”
“Did you say this Yancy’s last name is Grey?” Rose asked slowly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone say before. Folks just call him Yancy and we all know who they are talking about.”
“Yes. He’s Yancy Grey.” Angie might not be able to read minds but she knew something was going on between the sisters. It was almost as if they were silently passing invisible notes. Rose had her top chin stuck out as far as it would go and Daisy looked as though she was about to cry.
Angie swore the air in the little shop changed. She took a gulp while some oxygen remained. These two were hiding something.
“All right, ladies, tell me what you know about it,” Angie said, unsure if she wanted to hear whatever they hid from her. “Any detail will help Yancy,” she said as she thought about whether a family had been killed there or devil worshippers had mutilated animals in the house that called to him.
Rose shook her head, then turned to her sister for support. They seemed to be reading each other’s mind again, only now it seemed more like an argument. Finally, Rose straightened like a judge about to pronounce a sentence. “We’ll tell the horrible story once and only once if it will help. Evil lives in that place, and anyone interested in it needs to know that.”
Da
isy didn’t look at her sister as she whispered, “No. Let what happened be dead and buried, Rose. It’s none of our concern.”
“It needs to be told.” Rose folded her arms. “If only for Yancy’s sake. If he’s a Grey, he might need to know it.”
“All right. Once. Then the story dies.”
Angie stared at Rose. “Can you two come to my house in an hour? I’ll have Yancy there if you think it’s something he needs to hear.” She wasn’t sure their tale would help Yancy, but Angie didn’t want to be alone when the sisters told what they knew. “I’m making supper for Wilkes and you’d be most welcome to join us.” If the sisters were only telling the story once, she needed others there.
“We’ll be out to your place as soon as we lock up tonight,” Rose said.
“And we’ll bring dessert. It’s only proper if we stay for dinner,” Daisy added.
Angie studied the pair. How bad could this story be if no one else in town knew it? The Franklin sisters were probably blowing it up.
An hour later, Wilkes, Yancy and Dan Brigman all stood in her tiny living room. Three long-legged men in boots all tried to fit into her furniture. Wilkes finally gave up trying to look comfortable and simply stood leaning against the wall.
Angie faced them all with a wooden spoon in her hand. “Now, don’t any of you frighten Rose and Daisy or I swear you’ll regret this.”
None of them looked bothered by the threat. Dan even laughed, probably imagining a fight between the three of them and the two middle-aged ladies.
Wilkes shook his head. “Angie, honey, I’ve known the Franklin sisters all my life. They love spreading gossip about everyone in town. I’ll be shocked if there is one story about this town that they haven’t told a hundred times.”
Dan agreed. “They file a police report on at least one person in town a month. Usually crimes they haven’t actually witnessed, but they’ve heard about or suspect. Things like Dorothy serving cat food at the café on Wednesday, or the principal stealing trash cans out of the roadside parks, or the volunteer fire department watching X-rated movies on their training nights. They are always wanting me to go out and investigate something they think is going on.”
