by Donna Alward
He shifted his gaze to Sam, pleased that he had the boy’s full attention. Sam’s eyes were wide, listening to Luke retell the story. “Now he’s healed up, but because he was hurt so badly, no one has given him a home.” Luke paused, wondering if he should explain what fate would have befallen Homer had he not brought him home. “He isn’t perfect, you see. But I think it doesn’t matter if someone isn’t perfect, don’t you?”
Sam nodded. “Mama says everyone makes mistakes.”
Luke swallowed. This was what he’d tried to avoid for so long, why he kept his nieces at arm’s length. He was afraid of caring, and he’d been right. Holding Sam this way, hearing his sweet voice talk about his mama only reminded Luke of his vow to not have children of his own. How could he be so selfish, knowing he could pass his genes on to another generation? How could he have a family, knowing they might have to go through what he’d already suffered?
But the longing was there. It was there when he held Sam, and it was there when he looked at Emily, and if he wasn’t careful it could have the power to break him.
He cleared his throat. “Dogs aren’t that different from people, you know. Give them a full belly and a little love and they’re pretty contented.”
Sam’s shoulders relaxed and his gaze focused on Luke’s face. Luke’s gaze, however, fell on Emily. The ice in her gaze had melted and she was looking at him in a way that made his heart lift and thump oddly against his ribs. Lord, she was beautiful. Those big eyes that seemed to reach right in and grab a man by the pride. He realized he’d been holding his breath and staring a little too long, so he looked away and shifted Sam’s weight on his hip.
“Homer won’t hurt you. I promise. The biggest danger to you is that he might lick you to death.” With an unprotesting Sam on his arm, he knelt before the dog. He stroked the fur reassuringly and Homer stretched a little, loving the attention. Still, Luke didn’t force the issue, just let Sam watch his fingers in the dog’s fur.
Sam’s eyes were wide as he touched the soft coat. Soaking in the attention, Homer rolled over on to his back and presented his belly to be scratched.
That was when Sam noticed, and it all came together.
“He only has three legs!”
“Yep.” Luke gave Homer’s belly a scratch and the dog twisted with pleasure. “Doesn’t slow him down much, though, does it? The vet told me he fetches tennis balls and who knows, maybe he can help me round up cattle if I can train him right. If you squat down like me, and hold out your hand, he can smell you. That’s how you say hello.”
Luke made Homer sit again and was beyond pleased when Sam followed his calm instructions. He balanced on his toes and held out his fingers, but when Homer moved to sniff he pulled them back.
Luke reassured him, wanting him to try again. They’d come this far. To stop now would mean two steps back. And Sam could do it. Luke knew he was just timid and that the worst of the fear was gone. Sam and Homer would be friends. He couldn’t give the kid back what he’d lost, but he could give him this companion.
“Watch.” He held out his hand and Homer gave a sniff and a lick. “Want to try again?”
He held out his fingers and Homer sniffed, licked and gave a thump of his tail.
“Give him this,” Luke suggested, standing and reaching into his pocket. He took out a small dog biscuit and handed it to Sam. “Put it flat in your hand, and tell him to be gentle.”
“H-Homer, gentle,” Sam said, holding out his hand. Luke could see it trembled a bit, but Homer daintily took the treat and munched. “See?”
“I did it!” Sam turned to his mother and beamed. “I did it, Mom!”
Emily smiled. “You sure did, baby,” she replied. Homer barked and Sam jumped, his eyes wide again, but Luke chuckled. “That’s just his way of saying thank-you,” he said. He reached into his denim jacket and took out a rubber ball. “Homer, fetch,” he commanded, tossing the ball, and the dog was up and off in a flash.
“Why don’t you play fetch with him for a bit, Sam? Then I can talk to your mother.”
Sam moved off with the dog and Luke looked up at Emily.
“I didn’t know he was afraid.”
“I wish you had asked, Luke. When I heard the barking, and saw Sam’s face…”
“I’m sorry, Emily. Homer’s been at the vet’s for weeks and I couldn’t stand to see him put down. Not when I could give him a good home. And I thought Sam would love him. Especially after all he’s had to give up.”
Was that a sheen of tears he detected in her eyes? His heart took up the odd thumping again.
“What you just did…that was great. Sam’s been timid around dogs for months. Every time we meet a new dog, it’s the same thing…”
Luke exhaled and smiled, until he heard the word but.
“But what happens when we leave, Luke? Homer is one more thing he will have to leave behind. Did you think of that?”
He hadn’t, but he realized now he should have. “Take him with you.”
But that was the wrong thing to say. “Take him with us? I don’t know if he’d be welcome at my parents’, and if Sam and I get an apartment…not everyone will accept pets. Then what happens when I’m gone to work and Sam is at school?”
Luke knew she was right. He climbed the steps and went to stand before her, needing her to understand. “Obviously I didn’t think it through as well as I should have.”
“I don’t know how much more I can take away from him,” she whispered, and he heard the catch in her voice.
He put his hand on her arm, feeling her warm skin beneath his rough fingers. “You are not taking anything away, Em. You give to him constantly. You give him love and acceptance and security. He is lucky to have you as a mother.”
“You’re just trying to get around me.” She sniffled a little and looked away from him, but he put a finger under her chin and made her look back.
“Maybe.” He felt the beginnings of a smile as he confessed. “If you’d seen Homer there, Em. He was skin and bones and bandages. Look what some love and attention accomplished. How could I just leave him there? I couldn’t. I’m sorry for causing you problems, though.”
“First me and Sam, now Homer. You do have a way of picking up strays, don’t you?”
“Hey, you found me.”
The sound of Sam’s laughter drifted up over the porch and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Emily looked up into his eyes and he was helpless. “I guess I did,” she murmured, and it was all he could do to keep from kissing her the way he’d been wanting to for days.
But what would it accomplish? Nothing had changed. And he wouldn’t play games. It was bad enough his heart was getting involved. Acting on it was another matter entirely. It would get messy. People would get hurt. And he was kidding himself if he thought it was only Sam and Emily who’d pay the price.
Because ever since their arrival, he’d felt like the stray who’d been taken in. And he didn’t like that feeling. He didn’t like it at all.
They went to the Canada Day celebrations on the first of July and Emily finally met Luke’s sister Cait and baby Janna. Unlike Liz and her bubbly nosiness, Cait was more reserved, with a warm, new-mother contented smile. Liz and her husband Paul were there with the girls, who tugged Sam along to the various games. They all ate cotton candy and hot dogs dripping with ketchup and mustard and as darkness finally fell, the three of them joined Cait, Joe, Liz, Paul and the kids on some spread-out blankets to watch the fireworks. It was impossible not to feel like a family. Like someone who belonged here. She knew it wasn’t so, but it didn’t stop the wishing. It would be foolish to imagine things were more than they seemed, but Emily wondered if some day she might find this somewhere, with someone.
The trouble was, she couldn’t envision it at all. It was only Luke she saw in her mind and that fact bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
Emily sat cross-legged on the rough blanket, looking down at Sam and watching his sleepy eyes droop while he valia
ntly struggled to keep them open. It was well past his bedtime, but he had wanted to stay and she didn’t have the heart to say no. His head was cradled in her lap and she smoothed his hair away from his forehead as twilight deepened and the crowd gathered, waiting for the pyrotechnics show.
“He’s tired.”
Luke kept his voice low and spoke close to her ear, so close she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as the rest of her body broke out in goose bumps.
“He wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Neither would I.”
Emily turned her head the slightest bit, surprised by how close Luke was when her temple nearly grazed his jaw. She knew he could be talking about the fireworks or visiting with neighbors or simply being there with his sisters and family. But Emily wanted to believe he meant being there with her and with Sam. How many times over the last week had they all been together and she’d felt the tug? A sense of déjà vu, knowing this had never happened before?
“Luke, I…” She didn’t know how to tell him what was in her heart. There were times when she even felt guilty for taking a wage for the work she was doing. Not because what she did wasn’t of value, but because she knew very well she was getting more than financial gain out of it. Sam was happy, she was happy, and she hadn’t expected to be, not for a very long time.
There was a bang and the first jet of sparks flew upwards. Emily turned her head to the fireworks display as Sam sat bolt upright and exclaimed at the blue and purple cascade flowering in the sky. Emily heard Sam’s name called and nudged him as Liz’s twins gestured wildly for him to join them on their blanket just ahead. “Go on,” she smiled. “You can watch with the girls. I’m right here.”
Sam scooted up to the next blanket, leaving Emily alone with Luke.
Darkness formed a curtain and everyone’s eyes were fixed on the dazzling display in the sky while Emily’s heart thundered. Luke shifted on the blanket, moving behind her so that she could lean back against his strong shoulder to watch. She could smell the aftershave on his neck, feel the slight stubble of his chin as it rested lightly against her temple. One after another the explosions crested and expanded, a rainbow of colors, but all Emily could think about was Luke and how close he was. If he turned his head the slightest bit…if she turned hers…
His fingertips touched her cheek, and she turned her face towards the contact. Her heart stuttered when she discovered him watching her, unsmiling, his blue eyes fathomless in the dark of the evening, reflecting the bursts of fireworks but focused solely on her. Her mouth went dry, afraid he was going to kiss her and wanting him to so badly she thought she might die from it.
“Em.”
In the din of the explosions she didn’t hear him say her name but she saw it on his lips. Locking her gaze with his, she let herself lean more into his shoulder, the only invitation she dared permit herself. It was all he needed. His gaze burned into her for one last second before dropping to her mouth. His fingers slid slowly over her chin to cup her jaw, cradling the curve in the palm of his hand. And finally, when she thought she would surely burst into flames, he kissed her.
His lips were warm and mobile, skilled and devastating. As Emily clung to his arm with her hand, she realized that there was never anything tentative with Luke. He was always strong, always sure of himself, and it took her breath away. He was always in control, and she wondered, quite dazzled, what it would take to make him lose that control? To lose it with her?
The finale began with rapid bursts of color crashing into the air. Emily’s fingers dug into the skin of his arm, and she felt the vibrations of a moan in his throat as the kiss intensified, making everything in her taut with excitement and desire.
A final bang and gasp and then there was nothing but applause from the crowd.
Luke gentled the kiss, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth before moving away, making her whole body ache with longing. His gaze was still on her, but there was something different in it now. Heat. And, Emily thought, confusion.
She looked past him to the crowd and was mortified to see Liz, Cait and their husbands watching. Liz’s mouth had dropped open and Cait’s soft eyes were dark with concern. Joe and Paul simply had goofy smiles on their faces. Emily looked past them, afraid that Sam had seen the sparks going off behind him rather than above, but he and the girls were still chattering excitedly about which bursts had been their favorites and the horrendous noise.
She scrambled to her feet and straightened her blouse. Luke took his time, getting to his feet and gathering the corner of the blanket to fold it. Emily grabbed the other side to help. She had to keep her hands busy. Avoid the assessing looks from Luke’s family. Why had she let herself be carried away?
But she’d created another problem. Holding her side of the blanket meant folding it into the middle, which meant meeting Luke face-to-face. There was the silent question as which of them would take the woolen fabric to fold again. Emily dropped it, letting Luke fold it into a square.
Cait and Joe took the stroller and said goodbye, but Liz—bless her—acted as if nothing had happened and stopped to ask if Sam was going to day camp in the morning. Emily, Luke and Sam followed along back to the parking lot. Sam’s feet started to drag, so Luke lifted him effortlessly on his shoulders and carried him to the truck.
Sam fell asleep on the drive home.
Emily couldn’t bring herself to say anything to Luke. She didn’t want to ask why. She didn’t want to analyze it. She was terrified to ask what it meant or if it would happen again. The radio played a quiet country-and-Western tune and she stared out the window at the inky sky and the long, flat fields shadowed by the moon. When they reached the house, Emily was first to hop out and she took Sam in her arms.
“I need to get him into bed,” she whispered, unable to meet Luke’s gaze. He didn’t protest or stop her. They both knew she was running away from what had happened. Her arms ached under Sam’s weight—when had he grown so much?—and she was out of breath by the time she got to the top of the stairs. When she finally had him tucked between the sheets, she paused. The light was on in the kitchen. Luke was waiting for her, she knew it. She hesitated, her hand on the smooth banister. If she went down, they’d have to talk, and she was afraid to talk. She was afraid of spoiling the balance they’d achieved so effortlessly during the past week. She was afraid they’d stop talking, that he’d kiss her again. And she was afraid it would go further. Much further. She imagined him carrying her to his room, imagined feeling his skin against hers….
No, it was too much. So much more than she was prepared to give. To accept.
So she went into her own room and shut the door, biting her lip as she changed into her nightgown and slid between the soft cotton sheets.
Several minutes later she heard him turn off the light as he stopped waiting. His slow steps echoed on the stairs, creaking on the tread third from the top. The steps paused beside her door as her heart pounded with fear and, Lord help her, anticipation.
Then the steps went away and she heard him go into his room. Muffled sounds as he shed his clothing—she swallowed—and the sound of the mattress settling as he got in bed, his head only inches from hers, and yet so far away.
She lay awake for a long time, replaying the kiss, listening for his footsteps, and wondering what it was she wanted—if she even knew anymore.
The morning sun was high when Luke stopped to survey the herd below. Caribou’s chestnut hide gleamed in the summer sun and the gelding tossed his head, anxious to get going again. Luke had taken the morning to check fence lines of the north pasture now that he and the hands had moved the herd east to graze on fresh grass. He could have done it on the quad, but he was a horse man at heart. Spending a morning in the saddle had sounded perfect at 7:00 a.m. when the dew was still heavy on the grass.
It had given him ample time to think.
Caribou shifted restlessly and Luke let him go, moving into a trot to the dirt lane that ran between sections. What the h
orse needed was a good run, a chance to burn off some energy. Luke could use it, too. He was wound tighter than a spring, and it was all due to Emily. Emily with her shiny mink hair and big eyes. Emily with her soft smiles and even softer skin. His fingers tightened on the reins. He’d been a damned fool last night, kissing her at the fireworks. It was bad enough it was in public, but with his family there? It was as good as putting a stamp on her as far as they were concerned.
And that wasn’t his intention. Not at all. His sisters would pester him to death wondering what was going on. If Emily was “the one”. It didn’t matter that he’d made it clear there would never be a Mrs. Luke Evans. It was just better that way. He never wanted to saddle a wife with an invalid.
A yellow-headed blackbird bobbed in the bushes as he passed. What had been his intention, then? Why hadn’t he just left Emily alone and kept his lips to himself? He’d asked himself that question all morning and had yet to come up with an answer. What did he want from Emily? Things had not changed. It would be pointless to start anything up knowing it could go nowhere.
He was right back to where he’d started—a fool. A fool to get so wrapped up in her that he’d given in to his wants and kissed her without thinking of the repercussions. Now she wasn’t even talking to him. She’d scooted up to bed last night and had avoided him this morning with the excuse of getting Sam ready for day camp. All-business Emily. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear. It was better this way, but it made him snarly just the same.
The gate was up ahead. He slowed Caribou to a walk and squinted. Emily was coming through the gap, all long, tanned legs in beige shorts and a red T-shirt. His body gave a little kick seeing her waiting for him. Her hair glinted with surprising red tints but he couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses. He didn’t need to. He could see by the tense set of her shoulders and the line of her lips that something was wrong.
