Cowboy at Midnight

by Ann Major

  But the headline that really sickened her was a sidebar story: Oilman’s Daughter’s Body Stayed Missing Three Weeks. She clenched the back of Steve’s chair for support. The story was a rehash of everything that had happened eight years ago. It dealt with Lexie and the subsequent lawsuits against Amy’s parents and the charges the Vales had brought against Amy.

  When Steve refolded the paper and slammed it on the table, shivers of dread made her feel so weak and shaky her hands became claws on the back of his chair.

  When he turned to her, his dark eyes were glacial. “Is this what your mother was talking about?”

  “Yes. Now you know. Now you’ll hate me.”

  “Your mother and father were sued?”

  Amy crossed her arms and rubbed them vigorously in a vain attempt to warm herself as she managed to back away from him. “Yes.”

  The legs of his chair scraped the floor as he stood up. “Because of what you did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because your friend died on that boat? Whose boat was it?” He moved toward her. “Who was driving that boat, Amy?”

  There had always been big gaps in her memory about that night. “I…I can’t do this.” When she backed into the counter, she grabbed the edges for support. “You read the paper. Why do we—”

  “Just talk to me.”

  “What’s the point? It’s never going away. Never! The Vales thought I should have gone to prison for it.”

  “But the grand jury disagreed.”

  She nodded. “You don’t want to be involved with someone like me. I’m damaged. I hurt people. I don’t mean to. I didn’t mean to…kill Lexie.” Desperate to escape him, she pushed away from the counter and ran to the window. Her back to him now, she stared down at the tranquil, turquoise pool, wishing she could plunge into deep water and never come up.

  “You can’t run and hide forever,” he said softly. When she heard him set his plate in the sink without rinsing it, she didn’t turn around.

  She tried to focus on the sunlight sparkling off the pool’s glassy surface. “I hid until you showed up.”

  He crossed the room and joined her at the window. His mouth thinned into a grim line. “Why is that, I wonder?”

  “Look, I’m a mess.”

  “Amy—”

  “I’ll drive you to your car,” she whispered. “I’m glad this happened. I’m glad you know. Now we can end this crazy thing between us that never should have started.”

  “Damn it to hell! We’re not ending anything. Not yet. Not till we talk.”

  He touched her arm, and she jumped away from him as if he were a snake about to bite her. Her head throbbed painfully.

  “No! I can’t talk to you! I can’t do us, either!” she said. “Last night I made a huge mistake by sleeping with you. I thought maybe I could talk to you, but I really can’t. This thing is just too big.”

  “You can go to bed with me but you can’t talk to me. Why?”

  She chewed her lip and looked out at the glimmering pool again.

  “Why?” he repeated. “What the hell’s wrong?”

  “You read the newspaper. Didn’t seeing it all there in black-and-white make you know that I’m this horrible person?”

  “You’re not. Amy, only newsprint is black-and-white. Real life is all about shades of gray.”

  “I don’t deserve you or anybody else.”

  “Nobody’s perfect. I don’t expect—”

  “Look, I’m a coward, too. Someday you’ll hate me. Maybe not today, but in time. I can’t face that.”

  “So, you’ll throw me away along with what we might have had together?”

  She felt her lips begin to quiver. “Before we get in too deep.”

  “Darlin’, don’t you know I’m already in too deep?” His low drawl softened. “Why don’t you give me a chance? What the hell happened eight years ago? Just tell me, damn it. Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what I just read.”

  When he moved even closer, she wanted to go into his arms so badly. Instead she skittered away from the window.

  He stalked her until she reached the door that opened onto the stairs.

  “I can’t talk about it,” she whispered brokenly.

  “Don’t you know I want to help you get over this?” he murmured.

  “You can’t. Nobody can. My mother’s tried. She sent me to therapy.”

  “I’m not your mother.”

  When his fingers closed around her arm, she shrank against the door. Shaking her head, she scrunched her eyes shut.

  “I’ve tried everything. I really have.”

  Again she was in a boat speeding across dark water, screaming Lexie’s name. “Do you know how many nights I’ve awakened screaming for Lexie? How can I think about you, or having a future with you, when the past refuses to go away?”

  “You have to try to make it go away. Not your mother—you! I’ll bet it wasn’t your idea to seek therapy.”

  Tightening his grip, he leaned closer, forcing in her an awareness of his large body. She sighed when his nearness consoled her on some deep, primitive level.

  “I want to help you,” he said, “but I don’t know how.”

  She wanted to yield to him, to sob against his broad chest until all the pain in her heart was washed away. She wanted to be cleansed and new. She really did. For the first time in eight years. But it was as if there were walls inside her, walls she had built day by day, nightmare by nightmare, for eight long years.

  “Tell me,” he growled. An iron hand crushed her to his chest while his other hand moved up to cup her chin, lifting it, forcing her to meet the midnight darkness of his glittering eyes.

  She swallowed a deep breath, hardly believing what she was about to do. “All right. I’ll try…because…you’ve touched me…in ways no one else has been able to since…” She swallowed another breath.

  “Just take it slowly,” he whispered.

  Maybe she would have confessed all her sins, maybe she really would have, if only Cheryl hadn’t chosen that exact moment to knock at her door.

  “Amy?”

  At the sound of Cheryl calling her name, Amy jumped away from him as if she’d been shot. Then her frightened gaze flew to Steve.

  “Don’t answer it, and she’ll go away,” he muttered savagely. “This is more important.”

  Another knock, more impatient than the first, banged against her door.

  “But she knows I’m home.” Amy stared pleadingly into his dark eyes. For a long moment the atmosphere felt electrified. Then feeling almost relieved for another excuse not to talk, Amy whirled away from him.

  “Cheryl,” she squeaked as she opened the door.

  “Is this a bad time, sweetie?” Cheryl said.

  Amy glanced at Steve, whose face was remote and hard-edged now. “Great time,” she whispered.

  Low, harsh laughter erupted from Steve’s throat.

  “Kate says a man threw her boom box in the pool.” Cheryl glanced at Steve suspiciously. “Did you see him?”

  His frustration obviously acute, Steve flung the door wider. Cheryl’s big green eyes got bigger when she saw his bare chest and guessed what it meant.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “The villain of your little tale,” he said in a flat, cold tone. “I threw it in. Your daughter was playing the thing loud enough to wake the dead and she refused to turn it down.”

  Cheryl’s eyes flew from his hard face to Amy’s. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “You heard Amy. Nothing important.” His voice was so harsh and raw it made Amy ache. “I was just trying to save your friend’s soul.”

  “Oh, I see.” Cheryl hesitated.

  “I’ll pay for the damn thing,” Steve muttered impatiently.

  “Are you crazy?” Cheryl smile was warm. “I came here to thank you.” She took his hand. “Kate pushes everybody’s buttons and boundaries. I’m sure it was a good lesson for her. By the way, she told me a completely d
ifferent story.”

  Steve smiled. “Someday I’d like to hear it.”

  “A couple of neighbors left messages threatening to call the police. Kate actually called them back and apologized. That was a big step. I owe you big-time.” Cheryl shook his hand and then let it go.

  She was smiling as Steve closed the door.

  “You sure charmed her,” Amy said.

  “Well, that beats you getting evicted, doesn’t it?”

  Alone with him again, Amy began to shake.

  “I wish you were as easy as she was,” he said. “Now, where were we?”

  “It’s getting late.” Dashing from the door to her kitchen, she picked up her cell phone and turned it on. “Oh, gosh.” She laughed nervously. “I’ve got eight messages from Tom alone.” She glanced at her watch. “Look, maybe this really isn’t a good time to talk.”

  “Right. Fine,” Steve said in a low, brittle tone. “I’ll just call a cab and get the hell out of your life.”

  There was something so final in his voice, she suddenly felt more terrified of losing him than of her demons. “No. I’ll drive you to your car.”

  “Fine.”

  Without talking to her or looking at her, he buttoned his shirt, stuffed it in his slacks and walked out to her car. She raced after him without even bothering to turn out her lights or lock her door.

  When he slid behind the wheel, she handed him her car keys. He drove silently to Lamar Boulevard and headed south. Pease Park off to their right was a flash of emerald green. The morning sky was blue and lovely, and bikers and joggers with their dogs could be seen on the limestone trail that ran through the trees.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when he turned left and headed toward Congress Avenue. “I need more time.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Take all the time you need,” he said, but his low voice was indifferent now.

  Her pulse jerked painfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I wish you well, too.”

  “I don’t want to end this in anger.”

  Steve’s gaze sliced to her. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me. I get carried away sometimes thinking I can solve everybody else’s problems. I can’t. You’re going to have to work this out on your own, darlin’.”

  He swerved into the parking lot behind his bar and pulled up beside a large black truck. Without a word or a glance toward her, he flung his body out of her car.

  She threw her own door open and ran after him.

  “Steve?”

  His jaw worked convulsively as he punched the remote on his key ring and unlocked the door. When she touched his arm, he stiffened.

  “Darlin’, you can’t have everything your way. You slept with me last night, and now we can’t have a simple conversation. That’s not much to build on.”

  She threw herself in his arms and kissed him. At first he resisted, but soon his hand curved along her slender throat, turning her wet, hot face to his. She was sobbing so hard, she was hiccupping.

  His mouth left her lips and he gently brushed away her tears. Then Steve tore himself away from her. Pivoting, he turned his broad back to her and pulled his truck door open. When she reached out her hand to stroke his arm, he grabbed her wrist, held it hard and then released it.

  “Don’t touch me and don’t kiss me, understand?” His dark eyes froze her. “I don’t want sex if we can’t even talk.”

  “But—”

  “For a little while I thought you were maybe the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “And now you don’t?”

  “I didn’t say that. You did. You’ve been hurt. I don’t want to say things that will hurt you even more.”

  “But you’re leaving.”

  “Because it’s what you need me to do.” He leaned down, tilted her chin up and kissed her nose lightly as if she were a little kid. “Take care of yourself.”

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Only her pride kept her chin erect and her eyes on his.

  “You need to find a way to believe in yourself and me a little more, darlin’. I can’t do it for you, much as I’d like to.”

  “Steve—”

  “The only way I can help you is to get out of your way.”

  His face and voice were emotionless as he turned away from her and heaved himself up into his truck.

  “Why?” she whispered thickly, stepping back from his big Dodge truck as he backed out of his space and drove away.

  She ran to the curb. There she stopped and watched his taillights until they vanished in the morning traffic.

  Steve was through with her for good. She felt the bleak emptiness she’d felt the day they’d buried Lexie. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stayed standing in the parking lot all by herself. She looked up at the big blue sky and then down at the black asphalt.

  She hated goodbyes. All her life, ever since she was a small child, she’d hated them. She’d remembered her grandmother coming to visit when she was a little girl and how she’d covered her eyes when she’d waved goodbye because she hadn’t been able to bear watching her grandmother go.

  A warm breeze stirred wisps of hair against her damp cheeks. For no reason at all she thought of Lexie. Suddenly she was crying again.

  She brushed her hair behind her ears. It was going to be a hot, miserable day, she thought.

  “This is good. This is what I wanted. There’s no place for him in my life.”

  Yes, it was good. He was out of her life. She could go back to her quiet, controlled life.

  At the thought of all the long, lonely years ahead of her, she began to cry uncontrollably.

  Eleven

  Amy was still crying when she got into her Toyota and buried her face in her hands. All he’d wanted was for her to talk to him.

  But she hadn’t talked to anybody. Not her parents. Not her therapist. No one. Not for eight years.

  After the tragedy and her grief, she’d wanted peace and quiet and control. She’d never wanted to be close to anyone or lose anyone or hurt anyone again. Was that so wrong?

  Only, now that he was gone, she didn’t feel peaceful, quiet or controlled. She felt so rawly alive her nerves were shattering with pain.

  She told herself she had to let him go.

  But it was as if they had started a journey together, and now she felt unbearably sad that it was over and she was just herself again. Last night in his arms, she’d felt beautiful and magical and whole.

  She didn’t deserve him. A long time ago she’d made a mistake that she would never be able to pay for.

  With an anguished sigh, she wiped her wet eyes. Then she started her car and headed home so she could dress before she went to work. Except, when she got to her apartment and saw his plate in her sink, she started crying again. The kitchen felt so empty without him. Intending to get dressed, she went to her bedroom, and the sight of the rumpled bed brought fresh tears.

  Amy stood in the doorway unable to go inside, trembling, sad, scared. She felt doomed. Suddenly she didn’t care about work. She didn’t care about anything except Steve. But that didn’t make much sense, either, since she’d sent him away.

  She turned and ran from her apartment down to the pool, her breaking heart racing in a furor. Not knowing what she intended, she called the office and blurted out that she was too sick to come into work.

  “You can’t be sick,” Nita, her bossy assistant, said. “Tom has called ten times. Nobody can deal with him except you.”

  “I have a migraine.”

  “You’re never sick. Look, I saw the article. It— I’m sorry. I didn’t realize— If there’s anything I can—”

  Amy hung up on her and raced back up to her apartment for her keys and purse and then back down to her car. As she backed out of her driveway, a black Volvo was heading toward her.

  “Mother!” No doubt Tom had called her mother when she hadn’t returned his calls.

  When her mother pulled up beside h
er and lowered her window, Amy lowered hers, too.

  “I can’t talk now,” Amy said.

  “Tom called. I know you’re upset. I know—”

  Amy rolled up her window. Waving, she stepped on the gas. Her mother did a U-turn and tried to catch up to her. When Amy lost her at a light, she sped north along Lamar and then cut over to Guadalupe and headed south toward the university. Her thoughts and emotions were a chaotic whirl, but she drove slowly and carefully as she’d promised Steve she would.

  What was the matter with her? Why was her carefully controlled life falling apart?

  Hours later she still felt as clueless as ever as she drove inside the cemetery gates and followed the familiar, narrow lane that wound through cedar and oak to Lexie’s grave.

  Much to her surprise, her mother’s shiny, black Volvo was parked underneath the shade of a live oak tree with its motor running. It unnerved her that her mother had known where she was going when she hadn’t even known herself.

  She pulled up behind the Volvo. When she got out, her mother opened the car door, too. Amy stood up straighter and smiled tentatively. Together, without speaking, they walked to Lexie’s grave where they stood for several long minutes, still wrapped in silence.

  “It’s hot.” Her mother’s throaty voice caught.

  “It’s Texas.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “I didn’t know I would.”

  “Don’t let this ruin your whole life, Amy.”

  “You can’t call me all the time and tell me what to do anymore, Mother.”

  “I knew you were hurting.”

  “You can’t fix my life. I’m not a little kid. You can’t buy me a new toy and make things right.”

  “Okay.”

  “I may quit my job. I hate it. I know how many strings you pulled to get it for me.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “I may move out of Cheryl’s. I may not. All I know is I have to be me. Not you. Me.”

  “Okay.”

  Her mother nodded. “What about Steve?”

  “I don’t know. I think I love him. But I don’t deserve him.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  “Mother—”