Handful of Dreams

by Heather Graham

  Once he had just been a thought, a catastrophe that struck her life and had to be dealt with, accepted…

  But now, standing in the clearing, she accepted that she was pregnant, realized how very much she wanted the child … David’s child. Peter’s grandson, Carl’s nephew. Life! And no matter what David had to say, no matter what he felt, she was going to have the baby, love him with all her heart, and give him all the wonderful things and people that were a part of him.

  A snowflake touched her cheek, and she hurried up to the porch. But as she reached it, narrowing her eyes against the fall of darkness, she frowned. There was something large by the door.

  Susan hurried closer and bent down, her fingers reaching out. It was only Sam. But Sam didn’t bark, and he didn’t wag his tail. He didn’t move at all.

  Susan pulled her fingers away, fear razing through her like a bolt of lightning. Her fingers were all sticky; they were covered with blood.

  “No!” she cried out, and then she gazed around in panic, straining to see through the shadows. Someone had killed Sam! Someone who was lurking in the shadows, someone who might be in the old hunter’s lodge, someone who might be … anywhere.

  She closed her eyes for a moment while terror gripped her. She opened them again. In the darkness the pines had taken on grotesque shapes; they stood etched against a dead gray sky, swaying, reaching, transforming before her eyes into a thousand demons.

  She blinked; they were pines, just pines. But she didn’t know what to do—slip into the lodge or go back through the pines? In the lodge she might find Jud, just as she had found the dog.

  No. No!

  The pines, she had to get back to the pines. Susan stood slowly. The snow had begun in earnest.

  She stepped off the porch, and then she ran. But just as she began to breathe more easily as shelter seemed to reach out to her, the forest was shattered with a harsh, alien sound. She looked at the tree in front of her; the bark was burned and blistered. She realized numbly that the shattering noise had been the sound of the bullet.

  She turned slowly, very slowly. He was there, just behind her, laughing. A big man, full-bearded now, and even in the darkness she could see that his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, as if he’d been helping himself to Jud’s liquor cabinet.

  “Where’s Jud?” she heard herself ask.

  “Don’t know, missy. The old codger is out somewhere.”

  He spoke so casually, she was certain that he hadn’t lied. He would have told her that he’d blown off Jud’s head just as casually.

  She didn’t back away from him; it wouldn’t have done any good. The blast from the sawed-off shotgun had hit the tree in front of her; she couldn’t possibly run fast enough to escape it.

  “I’m worth a lot of money,” she told him. “Enough to buy you freedom. If I’m not hurt—” She broke off because he was laughing again. It seemed so absurd, both of them standing there, the snow falling all around.

  “I don’t really want to hurt you, but if I have to, I will. I like you. I like the way you smell. I like the way you look. I like the sound of your voice.”

  He took a step toward her, and she didn’t give a damn about the range of the shotgun. She turned to run.

  His fist closed around her shoulder, jerking her back. She knew that she screamed, but the sound was cut off quickly as he dragged her to the ground. And then she fell silent because the muzzle of the gun was against her throat, scratching her flesh, pressing into her windpipe. His face was right up to hers.

  Bloggs smelled more like a tomb than a jail. Like something old and decrepit and horrible. “You’re so white,” he crooned to her. “As white as the snow. But don’t pass out on me. Not yet. We have to find the tough guy first. And when I finish with him, you’ll be ready to jump before I can even whisper.”

  He stood up, dragging her along with him, the barrel of the gun at her spine. “Don’t pass out!” he hissed.

  She wasn’t going to pass out. She thought that she might be sick. She was terrified for David—unsuspecting David, enwrapped in his own torment. She thought she might well die, and she was afraid that she would burst into tears that would strip her of all awareness, all chance. The baby … She’d been so close to death so many times…. Oh, Carl, Peter! she thought, wincing against the prod of the shotgun. Was it like this? Was it like this? But, no, it hadn’t been terror for them, it had been a certain peace. God, I can bear to die! she prayed silently, but not the baby. Please, not the baby….

  Which meant, of course, that if her prayer were answered, she’d have to live herself.

  “Come on! Start walking, real quiet.” Bloggs’s voice was like the hiss of a snake.

  She swallowed and moved. And kept praying.

  There was movement: a crackle of dead branches. David straightened against a pine, leveled his revolver, and whirled around. The shadow was still distant. He didn’t pull the trigger.

  Why the hell couldn’t it be light? Why was a blinding snow falling? He narrowed his eyes, felt a headache begin as he tried to see. And then he relaxed. The shadow was tall but very thin.

  “Jud!” he whispered hoarsely.

  “David?” A whisper came back to him. David moved away from the tree so that Jud could see him and come to him. The old man looked like death itself, gaunt and strained.

  “Where’s Susan?” David demanded anxiously.

  “She ain’t with you?”

  “No!”

  “Boy, there’s a killer out in these woods! The son of a bitch killed my dog!”

  “Oh, God, Jud, I know,” David whispered in anguish.

  Jud’s eyes leveled on him. “Why aren’t you with her?”

  “I’m not! It’s that simple.”

  “You argued?”

  “She’s out in these trees somewhere.”

  “Hell!” Jud spat. “She’s on her way to my place. You argued about your kid, huh?”

  “We’ve got to find her.”

  “Let’s head for the lodge.”

  “Jud, you’re too old—”

  “I can move just as smooth as you, boy.”

  They started off together, hugging the pines. “You gonna marry her?” Jud formed the words more than voiced them.

  “Yes, yes,” David said distractedly. If she lives! “Yes, whether it’s mine or not….”

  He didn’t know that he’d spoken the words aloud. Jud suddenly stopped in his tracks, staring at David. They should have kept going, silently, but Jud was too incensed.

  “What are you saying? She isn’t the type of woman to sleep around!”

  “Shut up, Jud! I wasn’t talking about her sleeping around. I was talking about my own father, if you must know!”

  “Your father?” Jud was so stunned, he stopped again, still whispering vehemently. “Why, you young ass! Where’d you get an idea like that?”

  David sighed, worried and determined to go on. What the hell difference did any of this make unless he could find her before Bloggs did? “Jud, he was paying her a salary for her services! She—”

  Jud spat on the snow. “Author services! He knew he was dying; he wanted his words down fast! He met her at Harley’s clinic the day her brother died.”

  For a moment the world swept away, the pines, the forest, even the fear. All David could feel was the cold, “Dad … knew he was dying?”

  “You weren’t ever supposed to know; them were his wishes. But seems to me Pete would want to think of the living, not the dead.”

  David doubled over suddenly, shot through with pain, aware again of the pines, of the darkness, of the snow, falling even harder now. God in heaven! She’d led him on! Because Jud was right: He’d been such an ass! And no matter what the provocation, she’d never hurt him with the truth that his father had been dying, and David’s own obstinacy had kept him away when…

  Bloggs was out there. Susan was out there.

  He gripped a pine and Jud at the same time. He heard footsteps, footsteps against the s
now. He practically jerked Jud off his feet to get him off the trail and into the shadows of the trees.

  And then he saw it all clearly. Susan was walking past him. Bloggs had his elbow crooked around her throat, and Jud’s shotgun was pressed against her spine.

  Susan. Everything he loved. Everything that gave him a chance in life. He needed her forgiveness for so much; he needed her, and he was so damned scared….

  He let them move on by, horribly aware of Jud’s breathing behind him. No sound, no sound…

  He waited until they had moved past, then motioned to Jud. Melding with the trees, they followed behind. Bloggs and Susan were getting closer to the beach. The snow was turning to a drizzling rain. The boulders on the sand rose like sentinels as they neared.

  David motioned to Jud, who moved next to him. Jud listened to his words, then nodded. David skirted around through the trees, and Jud moved spryly, rushing up to hide against one of the granite boulders. He waited and listened.

  And then he called out, “Bloggs! Harry Bloggs!”

  Susan was jerked around and slammed in front of the man just like a human shield. Jud realized with real pleasure that Bloggs wasn’t at all sure in the darkness and rain where the call had come from.

  “Is that you, tough guy?” Bloggs called out.

  “No, it ain’t!” Jud replied. What the hell did he do now? David had just said to keep the man talking.

  “It’s me—Jud Richmond. You killed my dog, you no-good bastard. That dog didn’t do nothing to you!”

  “Tried to bite me, you old geezer!”

  Good for Sam! Jud thought with a pang. The dog knew garbage when he saw it and fought to the end! He remembered he was supposed to be talking without becoming a target himself. “Why don’t you let go of that young lady? You hurt her and the law—”

  “The law!” Bloggs sneered. “I’ll worry about the law. You want the girl released, you get me her boy!”

  Jud didn’t see anything but a blur—a dark blur that ran from the shadows. The blur cut off Bloggs’s speech. Susan screamed. When Jud heard her fall forward, he flew out from his boulder, racing down to the sand. She was soaked; snowflakes were on her shoulders, melting in the rain. It was so damn dark! And the wind was howling.

  But he saw her eyes. Green as emeralds in the night.

  “David?” she whispered, and they turned around together. Susan ran toward something in the sand and picked it up. It was the sawed-off shotgun. But David hadn’t shot Bloggs; he hadn’t dared because he might have hit Susan.

  “Oh, God!” Susan gasped, swirling around with Jud. They could see the two men, rolling in the sand, but they were nothing more than blurs again, movement, shadows in the night.

  The wind picked up. It screamed with the roar of the surf.

  “Give me it!” Jud told Susan. “I can hit a squirrel in the eye!”

  Susan gave him the gun. They raced together to the shore, but even Jud was forced to stop, aim, and stop, and try to aim again.

  David and Bloggs were involved in a deadly wrestling match, trading punches, falling, rolling again. They moved out into the water where crashing waves combined with the wind and rain to blur vision and make the men appear as one again and again.

  “Do something!” Susan screamed to Jud. He shook his head.

  “Can’t shoot! I can’t shoot!”

  They were going farther and farther into the water. Oh, dear Lord, Susan thought in rising desperation and panic. If David survived Bloggs, he would freeze to death in the winter waters!

  She raced toward the surf and let out a long horrible scream.

  Both men had disappeared beneath the waves.

  Cold. It was so cold. Harry Bloggs had gone down with the last blow, gone down deep, and now seemed to be gone. But David might have been gone himself; all he could see or sense or feel was the cold water. It seemed to beckon and whisper to him: Sleep, David, close your eyes and sleep. There’s no need to fight. Just close your eyes….

  He saw his father. Peter’s secretive grin, his brilliant blue eyes, his cap of white hair.

  Hi, Dad! Dad, it’s so damn good to see you now! I missed so much. I was so wrong, so out of line! Can you forgive me? Ah, Dad, why didn’t you set me straight? Why didn’t you give me a punch in the jaw? I would have deserved it….

  Swim, David. Move your arms! Kick, son—you can swim. Come on, son, reach out, reach out your hand….

  David stretched out his hand and reached, again and again. Peter was in front of him, ready to help.

  He touched the hand. It wasn’t Peter’s at all; it was slim and delicate but filled with a surprising strength. He opened his eyes, shot through the water, and was stung with salt and wind.

  He saw her eyes, green, sparkling emeralds, filled with moisture, with tears. “David! David, come on…”

  He shook himself. The cold was still with him; it was frigid, piercing, terrible. But it had ceased its whispering, and reality was all around him. She was helping him to stand in the shallows, bracing him as he stumbled to his feet against the sand and surf. He looked at her and smiled.

  A second later Jud was there, supporting him. Together they lowered their heads against the wind and stumbled back to the house.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HE’D BEEN IN THE tub long enough to feel as if he’d thawed out when he heard the door open. With his eyes closed and his head rested against the edge, he smiled. It was a rueful smile, touched by pain and regret yet hinting of hope.

  He didn’t open his eyes. She cleared her throat a little nervously. “Jud’s sitting on the sofa in the parlor with his shotgun across his lap. I got him to put on some of Peter’s socks, a pair of slippers, and a cashmere robe, but I can’t get him into a hot tub. He says that if you came out of the water, Bloggs just might too. He says he’ll watch for the first half of the night, then wake you.” She hesitated. David didn’t speak. He kept his eyes closed, listening to the tone of her voice, feeling it flow around him.

  She cleared her throat again; he heard her take a step toward the tub. “David, Jud said he told you about your father. I—”

  David lifted a hand to her. After a moment she took it, kneeling down beside the tub.

  He stared at their hands, laced together. His fingers so brown, hers so pale and slender locked within them.

  Then he looked into her eyes, “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Susan lowered her head, quivering so inside that she was afraid to speak.

  “Susan?” He touched her chin, raising it gently. His eyes were light and clear, as naked as a cloudless sky, filled with tender emotion.

  She took his hand between both of hers, squeezed it tightly, then brought his palm to her lips and kissed it.

  “I love you, David.”

  He stroked her damp hair, gazing at her with that tender, rueful smile. “Can you really?” he asked softly. “After everything … can you really?”

  She was still shaking. So badly that she was afraid to keep staring into his eyes, afraid to realize the love that was really there, deep and tangible and humble and strong.

  “David, I—I didn’t help matters much. When I first met you, I was infuriated. If I’d been a better person, I would have stayed no matter what you said. I would have told you the truth—”

  “You came to tell me that my father was dying—despite his wishes—didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t know if it would be right or wrong.”

  “Oh, God!” David said with a groan.

  “David, he loved you so very much. He was so proud of you and your relationship with each other. Can you understand? He didn’t want you to know because you never failed to treat him like an adult. He didn’t want you to start treating him like an old man, like a child. Oh, David…”

  He stood, stepping dripping wet from the tub, then kneeled down beside her and took her cheeks gently between his hands, bringing her eyes to his once again. “I understand, Susan. It hurts, but I understand.” H
e smiled at her, seeing tears brimming in her eyes, determined not to let them fall. “What I don’t understand is why he never set me straight about you. Or why you let me believe you had been my father’s mistress.”

  She managed to smile back through the haze of tears. “Pure nastiness—and you deserved every bit of it!”

  “I definitely did,” David replied ruefully. “But why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”

  “I couldn’t, David. First, I think I was in too much shock. And then … well, I did live in this house with your father. No one could really prove to you that I hadn’t been what you thought I was. Then, after I’d encouraged your beliefs at every point, how could I go back and try to convince you that I had been lying when it would look so expedient?”

  He started to laugh, pulling her against his wet, naked body. “Oh, Susan! I was dying for you to come to me and tell me that! You little fool! I was in love with you. I would have believed you!”

  She smiled wistfully, savoring the words, allowing her fingers to trail through the dark hair on his chest. Then she straightened, pushing him away. “You’re damned lucky you didn’t die of exposure! Get back into that tub—”

  “Not alone!”

  “David! Jud is in the house!”

  “Oh, Jud would condone every movement! Besides, you’re soaked too.”

  She couldn’t really protest; he was pulling her sweater over her head; his fingers felt like lightning trailing over her back, tugging at her bra strap.

  She laughed a little breathlessly, wondering how a day that had brought such terror could produce such a magical night.

  She was suddenly set on her feet, but he was not. He still knelt before her, his fingers moving in a tender, sensual caress over her breasts, then lowering to snap open the button on her jeans and pull the zipper. He tugged the jeans over her hips along with her panties; she stepped out of them and he tossed them aside, but still he remained there, stroking her flesh so lightly and reverently that she began to tremble. His fingers moved with that same tender and exotic appeal over her abdomen, and at last she dug her fingers into his hair, demanding that he look up at her.