Suzanne Brockmann

by Give Me Liberty (written as Anne Brock) (lit)

  "I hate to heap more bad news on you," Rich said, "But property taxes are coming due, and you'll owe about twenty-five hundred. Of course, it may be a little less after we get the place reassessed."

  Shakily, Lib pushed herself to her feet. She had to get out of here. She had to go back to the farm, to sit down by the pond, think this through, figure out how she was going to deal with these financial burdens. But for the first time in her life, Lib actually felt faint. She caught herself on the table, and Rich leapt up, his face worried. "Wow, you're pale. Sit down. Don't stand up," he said.

  But Lib shook her head. She had to get out of here. Her imagined worst case scenario hadn't even come close to this disaster.

  "Look, it's not as bad as it seems," Rich was saying. "I can talk to the people at the bank, set up some sort of short term home improvement loan. You can fix up the house, pay off the taxes, sell the property, pay back the loan and still walk away with a profit. Not a big one, but a profit. As far as I can see, it's your only way out."

  Blindly she pushed past him, heading for the door, and ran smack into Luke Fulton.

  He smelled like hard work and soap, with an odd blend of ski wax thrown in — odd, considering the day's heat. As Lib looked up into his eyes, she had the wild urge to throw herself into his arms, to beg him to hold her tightly and never let go.

  He caught her by the elbows, his dark eyes filled with concern. "Whoa, Lib, what's the matter?"

  But she pulled free. Luke Fulton couldn't wave a wand and make her problems disappear. And he sure as hell wasn't about to sweep her up and carry her away to live happily ever after, that was for damn sure.

  Lib nearly tripped in her haste to get out of the coffee shop. Luke started to follow her, but Rich Lowell caught his arm.

  "Let her go," the lawyer said. He smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid I just gave her some bad news."

  As Luke watched out the window, Lib opened the door to her car and got inside. She moved slowly, jerkily, as if the life and energy had been beaten out of her.

  "What bad news?" Luke asked.

  Rich shook his head. "Luke, you know I can't tell you," he said. "Client confidentiality, and all that." The heavy man moved back to his booth and began to gather up his files and his briefcase. "I was just getting ready to head over to your office — unless you want to talk here?"

  "Here is fine," Luke said, distractedly, still watching Lib out the window. "Are you sure she's okay?"

  Rich looked up, following Luke's gaze to where Lib was carefully pulling her car out of its parking spot. "I should've figured you'd know her," he said. "She's been in town, what? Two days, tops? And already you've got that look in your eyes."

  Lib drove out of sight, and Luke focused on Rich for the first time. "What look in my eyes?"

  "The big, bad wolf look," the lawyer said. "Can I give you some advice, pal?"

  Luke sat down across from Rich, in the seat Lib had occupied not more than a few minutes earlier. "You're my attorney," he said. "I pay you to give me advice."

  "Cool it with this girl." All teasing had left Rich's eyes. "She's nice. She's too sweet for your games. She'll fall for you — they all do — but she's the type who'll think you're playing for keeps."

  Luke stared back out the window, down the street, in the direction that Lib had gone. His teeth were clenched, he realized, and he made an effort to relax his jaw.

  "Don't be fooled," he said, looking back at Rich. "Lib's got a temper that you wouldn't believe. And she knows what's going on around her. She's not some innocent that I'm going to take advantage of." He took a sip of Lib's iced tea and laughed. "To tell you the truth, I feel like I'm the one who's on shifting sand. One minute she's asking me out to dinner, and the next she's accusing me of being narrow-minded, and telling me to stick my money where the sun don't shine."

  "Your money?" Rich said, interest in his eyes.

  Luke shrugged. "I offered to loan her the money she'd need to fix up the house," he said.

  "And she told you to stick it," Rich said, unsuccessfully hiding a smile. "You might want to make her that offer again."

  "Why?

  But Rich shook his head. "Uh, uh, uh," he said. "You know I can't tell you that." He pulled another file from his briefcase. "Let's talk about this video store deal. I looked over the contract."

  Luke tried to concentrate on Rich's words as the lawyer went through the contract point by point. But all he could think about was the way Liberty's violet eyes had looked just before she'd left the coffee shop. There had been more than sadness in her eyes. He'd seen despair, defeat. Even when the floor had fallen in, even after she'd seen the horrible condition of the Harlowe house, she hadn't been defeated. Angry, sure. Sad, definitely. But not defeated.

  At quarter after five, Luke glanced at his watch and interrupted Rich. "We're going to have to set up another time to talk about this," he said. "I'll come into Bellow's Falls tomorrow if you want, but I can't do this right now."

  Rich stared at Luke in surprise. "You're kidding."

  "No, I'm not."

  "This is the final deal — the big one that's going to push you over the top."

  "Sorry, Rich." Luke stood up.

  "What on earth do you have cooking that takes prece­dence over this contract?" Rich asked, pushing himself to his feet and following Luke to the coffee shop door.

  The late afternoon air felt cool. Luke took a deep breath, filling his lungs.

  "Whatever it is, you better let me in on it." Rich followed Luke onto the sidewalk.

  "It has nothing to do with my financial affairs," Luke said.

  "Don't tell me — it's Liberty Jones," Rich said jokingly.

  Luke said nothing, but something, some flicker in his eyes, some movement of his face gave him away.

  Rich was stunned. "My God," he said. "It is, isn't it? I don't believe it. You're blowing off a business meeting because of Liberty Jones."

  Luke shook his head. "No," he protested. "Not really. I just can't concentrate."

  "Let me know if you lose your appetite or start singing and dancing in the street when it's raining," Rich grinned. "I can write a mean pre-nuptial agreement."

  Luke wasn't amused. He leveled a deadly look at the attorney — a look that would have had other men shaking in their boots. But Rich just laughed as Luke walked toward his pickup truck.

  "Good luck," he called after Luke.

  Luke didn't even turn around.

  He got into his truck and drove through town, making a quick circuit around the village green, watching for Lib's blue Spitfire, just in case she hadn't gone straight home. There was no sign of her, and he quickly headed onto Forest Road.

  Luke spotted her car from quite a distance down the road, and the relief that hit him in the chest was staggering. He forced himself to ignore it, and pulled into the dirt and gravel driveway behind her car.

  He was aware of the silence as he climbed down from the cab. The sound of his door closing seemed to echo in the stillness.

  "Lib?"

  The front door of her house was open, and Luke walked inside.

  This place was depressing. How could she live here? He caught sight of her carefully rolled up sleeping bag in the dining room, alongside a small suitcase and her pair of worn out cowboy boots. A boombox and a pile of tapes sat on the mantel, but that was it, the complete extent of her worldly possessions.

  He quickly walked through the house, even though he was certain she wasn't inside. He let himself out the kitchen door and followed the well-worn trail that led through the back yard and up the hill to the fields — and the pond.

  The field next to the pond was filled with wildflowers. Daisies and black-eyed Susans were everywhere. Luke spot-ted Lib near the pond, lying on her back in the grass, hands beneath her head. She was staring up at the frothy white clouds that were floating across the blue sky. He stopped, bending down to pick one perfect daisy, then he walked over and sat down next to her.

  "I know I'm probably
the last person you want to see right now," he said lightly, offering her the flower, "but what if I groveled?"

  She smiled, shading her eyes to look up at him. "You? Grovel?"

  He stretched out in the grass next to her, propping his head up with one hand. "I've never actually groveled before. Please be gentle."

  Lib sat up suddenly. "I'm going to need to borrow an awful lot of money from you," she said. "I'm the one who should be groveling."

  Luke sat up, too. "I already told you I'd lend you the money. Pay me back whenever you can."

  "It'll be a while," Lib said. She hugged her knees to her chest. "Harriet didn't have homeowner's insurance."

  Luke swore softly. "Lib, I'm sorry."

  He couldn't help himself. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She didn't fight him, and he rested his cheek against the silky smoothness of her hair, holding her close. Her shoulders shook, and at first he thought she was crying. But she wasn't. She was laughing.

  "What's so funny?" he asked.

  "You've got to marry me," she said, teasing. "If you can stand up to my temper, and come back for more, I'd be a fool to let you get away." Her eyes turned serious as she looked up at him. "I can't believe you still like me after the way I yelled at you this morning."

  Their eyes met and Lib caught her breath. He was going to kiss her. This time, he was definitely going to kiss her. But this time Lib backed away, gently pulling free from his arms.

  "If you're serious about lending me this money," she said, "I'm not sure it's a good idea for us to... you know, date."

  Her face and words were so serious, Luke was taken aback. "Why?" was all he managed to say.

  Lib plucked a piece of grass, running it between her finger and thumb. "I don't want you thinking the only reason I want to be with you is because of your money."

  A breeze blew a lock of Luke's hair down across his forehead and impatiently he pushed it away. "I'm not going to think that," he countered.

  "Why don't you believe me when I tell you that I'm here to stay?" Lib asked quietly, glancing up at him.

  He looked away. "I'd like to believe you."

  "But you don't." She could see from his face that she was right. "I need to figure out what I'm going to do," she said. "I need some time to think."

  Luke got to his feet, but just stood for a moment, looking down at her. He laughed, a short exhale of rueful air. This was nuts. Yesterday, he was the one who didn't want to go out with Lib, yet today, here he was, blowing off business meetings, dying to have dinner, or anything, just to be with her. "I want to lend you that money," he said. "And I'll respect your decision if it means you don't want to go out with me. But it doesn't mean that you're not going to see me, because you will. We're neighbors. And sooner or later... "

  He let his voice trail off, and got up, brushing bits of grass from his jeans and leaving without a farewell.

  Lib watched Luke walk down the path that led back to the house and the road. For a man of exceptional height, he was graceful, his movements fluid and sure. During her many summers in Sterling, Lib had ridden her bike past the high school, stopping to watch Luke and his friends playing basketball out on the playground. He'd moved like a dancer, his muscles rippling as he floated through the air to dunk the ball through the hoop. There was no doubt about it. The man was gorgeous.

  And she was attracted to him to a dangerous degree.

  Chapter Five

  Lib sat in the self-storage unit, surrounded by Harriet's inventory of furniture and boxes. There was so much stuff. As she looked around, she realized that the eleven hundred dollar fee for a quarter year of storage was a very good deal. She'd lived in two-bedroom apartments smaller than this room.

  Lib opened a trunk, and the unforgettable aroma of boxwood floated out. It was as if Harriet were suddenly standing in front of her.

  The trunk had been carefully packed with dresses — Harriet's dresses — beautifully hand-sewn garments made from fabrics of all colors and prints. Harriet had worn them back in the 1930's and 40's.

  The lid of the trunk had a mirror built into it, and Lib pulled out one of the dresses, holding it up to herself. She remembered looking through this trunk with Harriet, listening to her great-aunt's stories of the Depression and World War II. Lib had tried some of them on. At fourteen she hadn't yet reached her full height, and her gangly body hadn't filled out.

  "Some day," Harriet had said with a twinkle in her blue eyes, "you're going to be as tall as I am, and damn near as pretty, too. If I don't say so myself."

  "Oh, Harriet," Lib sighed now, looking at herself in the wavery mirror. "What should I do?"

  The dress had a pattern of tiny black flowers over a tan background. As Lib moved to fold it back up, the overhead fluorescent lights reflected off of something. It was a pin. A golden locket in the shape of a heart. She hadn't noticed it, because it seemed to blend right in with the colors of the dress.

  Carefully, Lib popped the catch and the locket opened. Instead of a picture inside, as she'd been expecting, there were words, neatly written in Harriet's spidery hand.

  `Follow Your Heart.'

  It had been Harriet's motto down through the years. Follow your heart.

  Instead of putting the dress back into the trunk, Lib took it with her, carefully locking the door to the storage unit behind her.

  * * *

  The tiny fans at the base of the windows did little to stir the warm air in the church, and Luke felt nearly overpowered by the heat and his accompanying fatigue. He gave in to the urge to close his eyes as the organ started to play. He'd take a short nap during Mrs. Howard's solo, safe in the knowledge that his sister Brenda would gladly provide a swift elbow to his ribs if he started to snore.

  But it was clear from the very first note that Mrs. Howard was not this morning's soloist. The voice that was singing was young and clear and

  Luke opened his eyes and turned to look up at the choir loft in the back of the church.

  It was Lib. But it was a Lib he'd never seen before. She was wearing a dress and her hair was up in some kind of braid, off her neck. The dress was old-fashioned, like something out of a Katharine Hepburn movie. The neck-line was fairly modest, but not high, and while the dress wasn't tight, it fit Lib well, clinging to her soft curves in all the right places.

  As Lib sang, she met his gaze and smiled at his expression of surprise. He caught her wink before she composed her features into a more properly devout expression. Luke couldn't pull his eyes away from her, feeling his blood pressure start to rise. Lord, she was beautiful. And what a voice

  Brenda's elbow connected sharply with his side.

  "Is that her?" his sister whispered. "Your new neighbor?"

  Luke nodded. He could see the sly speculation in Bren­da's brown eyes.

  "No wonder you haven't been able to make it over for dinner for the past week," she said.

  "It's not what you think," he said, shaking his head. "We're just friends." But as the words came out of his mouth, he could barely believe them himself. Still, it was what Liberty wanted. He'd loaned her the thirty thousand to start the renovations on her house, and they'd sat down with Rich Lowell and drawn up a pay-back agreement. Afterwards, Luke had tried to seal the deal with something a little bit stronger than a handshake, but Lib had stopped him.

  She didn't want to get involved with him, that was clear. She'd insisted that her sole reason for keeping distance between them was because she felt uncomfortable due to the amount of money she'd borrowed from him. But Luke was convinced there was something more to it. After all, he was a lot older than she was — and he had a reputation he deserved. He couldn't blame her.

  They would have to be just friends.

  "You've never been friends with a woman in your entire life," Brenda whispered. "You don't know how. "

  "Sure I do," Luke whispered back. "It's not that hard." Well, it wouldn't be if only he could figure out a way to keep from wanting to kiss Lib all the time, to h
old her, to... Swell thing to be thinking about in church, he chastised himself.

  He closed his eyes against all the questions he could see on Brenda's face, and listened to Lib sing. The words and melody were nothing out of the ordinary, but the clear beauty of Lib's voice made the little hymn something special.

  Liberty Jones was full of surprises, that was for sure. She was unpredictable and bright, a ray of sunshine in a world that had become full of too many numbers to crunch, too many deadlines to meet and too much money to worry about. The more Luke was around Lib, the harder it was to leave her. The more he found out about her and her unconventional childhood and eccentric family, the more he wanted to know. And she could make him laugh like he hadn't laughed in years.

  He wanted her in a way that went beyond mere sexuality, in a way that scared the hell out of him.

  But wanting her was hard enough. Having and then losing her would be unbearable.

  After the service was over, Luke stood outside on the steps of the church, waiting for Lib. The late morning sun beat down mercilessly on his shoulders and he loosened his tie and slipped out of his jacket. He was just starting to roll up his sleeves when she appeared.

  As she closed the heavy door behind her, a gust of wind blew up, making her calf-length skirt flare out around her, and pressing the thin fabric of her dress against her slender body. Several strands of Lib's hair had come free from her braid, making her look somehow even more feminine.

  Luke couldn't look away.

  She moved down the steps toward him slowly, as if she were hypnotized by the heat in his eyes. Luke forced himself to smile and some of the apprehension left her face.

  "You look beautiful," he said. "The dress was Harriet's, right?"