Wild Within (Wild at Heart #1)

by Christine Hartmann

  “But then…”

  Lone Star swung her pack onto his chest. His arms looped through the straps backward. He adjusted the pack to ride high, under his chin.

  Grace’s mouth hung open. “You’re going to carry both.”

  Lone Star flexed his muscular arms. Grace stared at the biceps that strained the material of his shirt.

  “Nothing like a little exercise.” He bowed and swept his arm across the two-foot-wide trail. “After you.”

  The path ascended steeply. Lone Star let Grace set the pace and maintained a constant stream of banter from behind. He drew her attention to rock formations and different types of plant life, to field mice sunning themselves on stones and falcons drifting lazily on thermals.

  “Stop me if I’m boring you. I know I can talk the needles off a cactus.”

  “You’re not boring. You’re distracting. In this heat, I can use it.”

  Nothing changed about the landscape, but to Grace the desert felt softer. Her pulse quickened. Her hands warmed. She relaxed more than she had been able to in years. For the first time, she noticed the chaparral’s sage scent. Subtle color differences in surrounding hills and flatland stood out more clearly. Even the sun seemed gentler.

  This stranger didn’t probe into her personal life, but Grace gradually revealed things she’d never told anyone. About the time her skirt caught on her junior high school locker door and fell around her ankles as the boy’s gym line walked past. About her two-bedroom condominium in San Rafael, California. And about Kenji.

  CHAPTER 3

  A year earlier, in mid-April, Grace returned home for the annual Mori Family Cherry Blossom Viewing Picnic. The backyard cherry tree branches quivered with pink blossoms. Fallen petals speckled a grey bedspread laid for a picnic. A gentle breeze ruffled the pale green grass. Scents of blooming roses and grilled fish floated on the light breeze, filling Grace’s mind with childhood memories.

  Her brother, Kenji, ran barefoot across the lawn toward her. Purple Lakers basketball shorts flapped around his skinny legs. A tattered, black ‘I love my Harley’ t-shirt billowed out behind him.

  He gave Grace a bear hug. “It’s great to see you.”

  Grace tugged on his shirt. “I see you dressed up for the occasion.”

  “Dressed down is the new dressed up.”

  “Where’s Hope?”

  “You know our sister. She’s inside helping Mom cook.”

  Kenji glanced toward the house, where a slender African American woman in her early twenties had just shut the back door. Her approach over the lawn was slow and deliberate. A defiant look clouded her face, contrasting with the breezy white tunic she wore over a lacy pink camisole.

  “Celine, don’t look so serious.” Kenji grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her close by his side. “This is Grace, my oldest sister.”

  Celine gave a forced smile.

  Grace laughed. “I know that look. You feel like you’ve walked into a scene from Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, right? Only our mom’s no Katharine Hepburn. And Dad’s no Japanese Gary Cooper.”

  Celine’s frown didn’t budge. “Spencer Tracy.”

  “Right.”

  “He was an ass in that movie.”

  “Well, our mom and dad can be that too. But they’re essentially harmless. Seriously. Watch this. This is how Mom looked, right?” Grace stepped back and surveyed the young couple, hands on hips, eyes narrowed, lips stretched into a thin, lopsided sneer.

  The corners of Celine’s mouth turned up. “I think your mom wanted to shoot me. You don’t have a gun in the house, do you?”

  “It’s not personal.” Kenji wrapped his arm around Celine’s slim waist. “She always hates my girlfriends. Has, ever since high school.”

  Grace pushed an errant wave of Kenji’s hair back from his face. “To have Kenji invite you to the annual Mori Cherry Blossom Viewing Picnic is a big deal. It means he’s serious. That scares our mom.”

  Kenji kissed Celine’s hand. “Between us, Grace, Celine and I are serious. After my hike this summer, Celine and I are making plans.”

  Celine smiled at Grace. But her eyes warned of a firmness that would be dangerous to test.

  Mrs. Mori appeared at the back door. She stared at the conclave and then at her watch.

  “That’s a hint.” Kenji led the way across the lawn and into the house.

  Later, after the picnic, the family sat among empty beer bottles under the cherry tree. Hope’s children lay stretched on their stomachs, feet kicking absently at the grass.

  Hope stroked her daughter’s hair and looked at Grace. “We’re going to give the twins separate bedrooms this summer. They’re getting too old to share a room. But I’m worried about how they’ll react. Do you remember how upset you were when Mom gave me my own bedroom?”

  “I wasn’t upset because you were moving out, if that’s what you mean. I was upset because Kenji was moving in. You’re the one who got a room to yourself. I’m the one who had to switch to the bottom bunk and have my little brother throw toy train engines and Lego airplanes at me all night.”

  “It wasn’t my idea. Mom knew you’d be a better influence on him than I was. Remember that pink bed and desk set she bought me for the new room? She thought she could turn me into a Japanese version of Barbie.”

  “And you proved her wrong by plastering the walls with heavy metal band stickers.”

  “I had to rebel.”

  “And you’re prepared for these two to do that when you split them up, right?” Grace glanced at her niece and nephew, who’d fallen asleep. “I can’t believe they’re eight already.”

  “Eight going on fifteen. They’ve started conversing in a secret language, like we did. But theirs is incomprehensible.”

  “I think ours was too, at least to Mom. She didn’t learn a lot of Pig Latin in those Tuesday night English conversation classes.”

  “It’s like they’re in their own world when they’re together.” Hope sighed. “Maybe we shouldn’t split them up after all.”

  “Why don’t you leave two beds in one of the rooms and see what happens? I bet they’ll like having their own space, and if they feel like they’ve got the option of being together, it won’t feel so scary or forced. Sometimes you have to give things time.”

  “I guess that’s why you’re the psychologist. What’s the bill?”

  “Sisterly rate. Look for it in the mail.”

  “Thanks for thinking outside the box. And now I think these two need a nap in your old bunk bed.” Hope shook her children awake and ushered them inside.

  A minute later, Kenji sauntered across the grass toward the back door. Mrs. Mori followed, carrying a pile of dirty dishes. Kenji reached for the plates. But his mother didn’t let go. A small pulling match ensued. Grace chuckled.

  But then Kenji’s face clouded with anger. He raised his voice. Everyone under the tree strained to hear.

  Mrs. Mori shook a finger at him.

  Phrases wafted across the lawn. “It’s none of your business. You can’t control my goddamned life. I’m sick of this. Give it up, Mom.”

  Kenji shoved the stack of plates and his mother fell into the railing. The clatter of smashing stoneware reverberated in the evening stillness. People on the blanket rushed toward the house. Grace took the stairs two at a time and reached Kenji first. She pulled him inside. Celine followed. Mr. Mori stayed with his wife, his stage whispered Japanese reaching down the hallway.

  “Ungrateful…inexcusable…I will talk with him.”

  Inside, Kenji tore from Grace’s grip, stomped into the living room, and snatched a motorcycle helmet from among the potted orchids. Celine walked up to him and, without saying a word, rested her hand on his forearm. He deposited the helmet on the sofa. She pulled him to her, stroked his head, and whispered into his ear. Grace watched for a moment from the hall and then slipped into the bathroom.

  I’ll give Mom and Dad a few minutes before trying to make peace.

  S
he straightened the shower curtains and refolded a guest towel that had fallen to the floor. A door slammed in the distance.

  What a way to introduce Celine to the family, poor girl. No wonder I never bring anybody home.

  A quiet knock startled her.

  “Grace? Can I come in?”

  Grace opened the door to Celine.

  Grace stepped aside. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  “No. Let me come in. If it’s okay.” Celine’s bright face showed evidence of tears. “I have to clean up a bit.” She lifted a red leather clutch.

  Grace sat on the bathtub rim.

  Celine rubbed her cheeks with a tissue. “Kenji went home.”

  “Didn’t you two come together?”

  “He goes everywhere on that motorcycle. I took my car and met him here. I’ll go in a second. But I thought I should say goodbye to your parents first. No sense making a bad impression.” She paused to apply mauve lipstick. “Well, it’s probably too late for that. They won’t forget me easily. This wasn’t exactly what Kenji and I had in mind when we planned this introduction to your family. But I’m an adult, and I want to act like one. Whatever your parents think, my mama didn’t raise me up to be a guest who doesn’t thank her hosts.” She snapped the blush container closed.

  “Politeness is obviously something you don’t have in common with Kenji.”

  “You should see him outside of this house more.” Celine glanced into the mirror to check her face. “I don’t mean that you two don’t see enough of each other. I mean he’s good with people. Normally. I bet he learned it from you.”

  Grace’s fingers played with the shower curtain. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “That’s not what Kenji says.” Celine put eyeliner and mascara back in her bag. “I’m ready.” She smiled. “Let’s face the music.”

  Half an hour later, Grace leaned against the front door and gazed into the suburban night. Lamps from the enormous house across the street illuminated the narrow front lawn. A mockingbird called like a crosswalk chirp. In the distance sirens wailed, the sound drifting on what was left of the earlier breeze. Inside, the house was quiet. An occasional clinking of dishes floated down the hall.

  The telephone’s shrill chime disturbed the silence. Grace turned. Mrs. Mori shuffled from the kitchen in slippers and picked up the hallway receiver.

  “Hello.” Fatigue accentuated her Japanese accent. “Mori residence…yes.”

  And something in the tone of her voice made Grace step away from the door. Mrs. Mori slumped against the wall. Grace broke into a run. The receiver clattered to the floor and skidded toward the kitchen.

  Grace caught her mother as she collapsed.

  “Kenji. My baby…”

  ***

  Earlier, Celine had left the Mori home and driven along the main route out of town, where she encountered police officers setting up reflective cones.

  She rolled down the window to talk to an officer.

  “You can’t go this way, I’m afraid.” A tall Latino officer raised his hand. “There’s been an accident. We’re setting up a detour. But if you know the roads, you can probably turn around before it gets too crowded. You’d better hurry though.”

  People had come out of their houses. Some walked down their driveways, ushering children in Spiderman and Thomas the Train pajamas toward the street.

  Celine grated the car’s gears to put it into quick reverse. As she swung around, her high beams revealed two parked police cars with their headlights pointed at the base of a telephone pole. Several officers bent over a motorcycle. She slammed the car into park, threw open the door, and raced toward the bike.

  “No!”

  The officers held out their arms in appeal. She ignored them.

  A well-cushioned older man in uniform scooped her up and held her gently under the armpits. “Ma’am, you have to go back to your car.”

  Celine’s legs strained against the pavement.

  “Ma’am, there’s nothing for you to see here.”

  Afterward, Celine said she didn’t remember anything but the motorcycle. A massive silver body glowing in the bright light. Front wheel and fork bent ninety degrees. Unscathed leather saddlebags, with silver studs that glittered like diamonds, spelling out the Japanese symbol for peace.

  Celine said she didn’t remember the officers identifying her as the girlfriend of the crash victim. Or their leading her to a squad car. She didn’t recall the ambulance arriving with a wailing siren. Or its leaving in silence.

  At some point, she fished out her cell phone.

  “I have to call his parents. Somebody’s got to tell them.”

  A female officer cupped her hand gently around Celine’s trembling fingers. “We’ll do that for you if you’d like. We’ll send somebody out to the house.”

  “No. They should hear it from somebody they know.” But after choking out, “Mrs. Mori? It’s Celine. Kenji…there was an accident,” all she could do was sob.

  CHAPTER 4

  When Grace finished the story, Lone Star stepped softly to her side.

  “Hey, Just Grace. Let’s stop here for a sec.” He lifted her chin and tried to catch her evasive eyes. “That story breaks my heart. I’ve got four brothers and two sisters. If anything happened to them, I think I’d open myself up a worm farm.”

  Grace lifted her gaze. “A what?”

  “A cemetery. I mean, I assume…” Lone Star scuffed a deep line in the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

  “He died.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his heel across the trench, erasing it. “That’s what I’d feel like doing if anything happened to someone in my family.”

  “I know.” Grace walked slowly on. “You’re right. You do. I mean, I think part of me did die with him. At least, life hasn’t seemed the same since.”

  Lone Star strode in front and blocked the path. Grace focused on his sparkling blue eyes. They shone with the sunlight and something else, something both soothing and energizing. Eventually, she turned away and sighed. “It’s just not the easiest to talk about. Today of all days.”

  “You mean…”

  “It happened a year ago.”

  “Today?”

  “Today.”

  “Miss Grace Mori.” Lone Star wrapped her hands in his. “I’m truly sorry.”

  Two tears ran down Grace’s dusty cheeks, leaving shimmering tracks. Lone Star lowered her pack and pulled her to him. She leaned her head against his chest and wept. Large hands stroked her erratically heaving back. Her arms extended slack at her side and then, after a while, reached up and pulled him to her. She buried her face deeper into his shoulder.

  No one has held me like this since it happened.

  When her tears diminished, Lone Star pushed her gently from him. “I know you must feel lower than a gopher hole right about now. But I’m worried about your expelling all that salt. We’ve still got a ways to go.”

  Grace wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I need a salt lick, like they put out for deer.”

  Lone Star’s eyes twinkled. “Good idea. Have some more water for now. Then we’ll set about finding you one.”

  Grace’s mouth stretched into a brief grin. Lone Star handed her the big water bottle. She gulped, burped, and turned bright red.

  “Excuse me.” She handed the bottle back to him.

  “Do you feel a little better?”

  “Yes. I think that cry had been building up for a year. Sorry you got caught in the flood.”

  Lone Star wiped the large water mark on his shirt with exaggerated swipes of his bandana. “Not to worry. It’s quick-dry.”

  He watched Grace stride ahead and wiped his forehead with his bandana. “That’s one heck of a woman.” He marched after her. “I think it’s my turn to tell a story, Just Grace. What do you want to know about me?”

  She answered without turning around. “Something less dramatic than what I just told you. Let’s start with what you do.”

  “You
mean when I’m not rescuing ladies in distress?”

  “What’s your day job?”

  “I’m an education attorney. We represent private and public educational institutions, but I work mostly with school districts.”

  “That seems like a niche market for an attorney.”

  Lone Star readjusted Grace’s pack on his chest. “Coming up, my one goal was to be a lawyer. Don’t ask me why. I must have seen a lawyer do something great on TV once. I used to watch a lot of TV. But then I found out you need money to go to law school. My family didn’t exactly ride high on the hog. So I figured I would never go.”

  Grace turned to look at him. “But you’re a lawyer now. What happened?”

  “A dust storm.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m from El Paso. West Texas. We have a lot of dust storms. Ever seen one?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it’s like a tsunami of dust rising all the way to the sky. Like a flowing wall that goes from the clouds clear down to the ground.” Lone Star’s hands waved across the horizon. “When it sweeps through, you can have outages, property damage, crop damage, a long list of trouble. When I was in eighth grade, we had a fierce one, so fierce it took down all the power lines. Didn’t get power back for a week. That’s what saved me.”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  “No power. No TV. And the only books in the house were my textbooks. So I picked them up for the first time since the beginning of the school year. Wouldn’t you know, there was a section on law in the first one I read. American Civilization Then and Now the book was called. I’ll never forget that. I read the Declaration of Independence and parts of the Constitution. I was hooked. I didn’t care that we didn’t have the money for school. I thought, where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  Goose bumps covered Grace’s arms. “That’s quite a story, Lone Star. You turned your life around on a dime.”

  “I have to tell you, I’m happy as a hog in mud I was born in West Texas. If I’d been born in your San Francisco, we’d never have lost power, and I’d probably be cleaning toilets at Whataburger.”