"Almost like," Luke said. "You can't leave your new computer equipment in the back seat of your car here like you can in a small town. Why settle for almost when you can have the real thing?"
"I guess it's a trade-off. Dallas has a lot of things Briar Creek doesn't—jobs, theaters, department stores, restaurants, just to name a few. I happen to think this area combines the best of both worlds. We're walking distance to my favorite park, Reverchon. It has some wonderful structures built out of native stone—winding steps up the hills, benches—one shaped like a throne—and so many trees, you feel like you're in a forest, completely hidden from the rest of the world."
"Can you walk in that park alone at night?"
Kate lifted her chin. "I could if I wanted to."
"Sure, if you wanted to get killed or raped."
"How often do you go for a midnight stroll in Briar Creek?"
"Occasionally." He looked down toward the trickle of water below, then lifted his glass and took a sip of wine. He swallowed and turned to her. "This reminds me of the creek at home where you and I used to play, where we found that cave and buried our friendship thorn. What did we put it in? An old aspirin box?"
Kate frowned. "I don't remember, and I don't see the resemblance. Of course there's some similarity. I mean, a creek's a creek and a tree's a tree."
He gave her a look which told her he didn't believe she was being completely honest then leaned on his elbows on the rail. "You like it here."
"I do, yes."
"I was all prepared not to like your condo in Dallas, but this is—" He stopped, looked up at her and smiled. "A nice place."
She rolled her eyes and laughed. "You really need to increase your vocabulary, learn some synonyms for nice."
"Okay, how's this? It's like being in a tree house only you don't scratch your legs climbing up and you have air conditioning and a grill for steaks and you can drink wine."
"That's nice, Luke, real nice."
The sound of Luke's laughter blended with the summer air, warm and mellow, a caress to her ears.
"I've missed you, Katie."
"I missed you for a long time." Kate spoke without thinking, from her heart not her head. If she had taken time to think, she wouldn't have admitted that she'd ever missed him.
Nevertheless the words couldn't be recalled, and she found that she was actually glad she'd spoken them. Relieved. A weight lifted from her chest, a barrier between Luke and her came down, and she realized how tired she was from holding that barrier in place.
He half-turned, hoisting one foot onto the rail, draping an arm over his knee, and smiled...and the years fell away. It was Luke's smile, her best friend's smile.
Of course he was no longer her best friend. But the rational part of her mind where that knowledge existed had somehow disengaged. She smiled back.
"The outside's changed," he said, studying her, "but you're still the same Katie."
She wanted to tell him that wasn't true; that she'd changed all the way to the core of her being.
But she was no longer sure if it was true, or if it even mattered.
She turned and leaned back against the rail, her arms folded across her chest. "Your outside's changed quite a bit, too."
Luke shrugged, his gaze warm on her, comforting and compelling like the approaching shadows of evening. "When you walked through the door of Sheriff's office on Friday, I thought at first I was hallucinating, that I wanted to see you so much, I'd pulled you straight out of my own thoughts."
Was that what Papa had done, missed Mama so much, wanted to see her so much, that he pulled her out of his own thoughts and into his version of reality?
"I still think it's odd that Papa didn't tell you I was coming down," she said.
"Katie, in your father's eyes, you and I will always be two little kids, following him around and getting into mischief. Surely you remember how he used to love to surprise us."
She nodded, her heart swelling with love for her father. "Like the horse rides."
"Every year he had surprise birthday parties for us."
"And we let him think we were surprised, even when we knew, after so many times, he was going to do it."
"Sheriff knew I wanted to see you. I told him so. I'm sure he planned the whole thing, getting you down to Briar Creek and then getting himself out of the office when you came in."
That theory put a different light on things. If it were true, that would make Papa's mind as sharp as ever rather than foggy with the early stages of senility.
"He did make a determined effort to get me down here, now that I think about it."
He'd even put Mama on the phone when all else failed.
Okay, maybe Papa's mind was as sharp as ever—though some of his efforts misguided—except for one small hallucination.
Or was it possible that Mama, too, had been part of his effort to get her to Briar Creek? Had he pretended to be seeing a ghost so she'd rush down to check on him?
No. Papa never lied. If he said he was putting Mama on the phone, he believed it.
"You haven't seen any real changes in Papa?" she asked.
He studied her intently for several seconds before answering. Well, it was about the fifth time she'd asked him. Luke was probably beginning to worry about her sanity by now.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Like I said, he's a few years older, a few pounds heavier. Katie, you've asked me that before. Obviously you're worried about something. What is it?"
A faint breeze rustled the leaves and caressed Kate's cheek.
A dog barked and another answered.
A robin burst into song then went silent.
The words Kate wanted to speak stayed in her throat, refusing to come to her lips.
"Remember that Maypole thing we did in grade school," Luke said, "where they tied colored streamers to a pole and we each took one and went around and around in some pattern I never could figure out?"
Kate laughed in relief at the reprieve from answering Luke's question. "I remember. You got tangled up every time."
"Well, your dad is like that Maypole. He's stability. He stays in one place while everything else revolves around him and gets all tangled and confused and eventually unwinds and finds him there, waiting, the same as when we started."
Kate lifted her glass to her lips and sipped, letting the cool wine roll over her tongue. "Yes," she agreed. "He's the center of my life. I'd be lost without him."
"When I talked to him on the phone about coming to work for him, it was like all the intervening years had never happened. Even so, I was amazed to actually get back to Briar Creek and find how little things had changed, especially Sheriff."
Kate twirled the stem of her glass between two fingers. "Why did you return to Briar Creek, Luke? You've admitted that when you left, you cut all ties, no looking backward."
He stared into the distance for a few moments, his brow creasing. "That's one of the reasons, I guess. I never had a chance to tie up loose ends, take care of unfinished business. The carousel stopped in the middle of the ride, and I came back to finish that ride. I never wanted to leave Briar Creek so it seemed right to return. But also..."
"What?" she asked when he stopped and shook his head.
He shifted, lifting his other foot to the rail, and again stared into the distance. "When my mom remarried, it was like losing my dad all over again, like the last link I had with him had been severed and this time I was an adult and couldn't hide from it. By returning to Briar Creek, moving into our old house, taking Dad's old job, I guess I thought I could find some part of him again, of that life I lost so many years ago."
"Did you?"
"No, not really. But I found Sheriff and you and the whole town of Briar Creek. I found myself again."
For a flickering instant, Kate felt a surge of wistfulness, but that was ridiculous. She had never lost herself as Luke had, so why should she feel wistful over the thought of finding herself?
"You can't turn back the clock, Luke."
"I know. And it's a damned shame we can't. Everything was so much simpler then."
Turn back the clock, once again suffer through the agony of losing one of the two people she'd counted on after she'd already lost her mother? But she couldn't say that.
"Give up my computer?" She shook her head and grinned. "No way."
"Not even for those chocolate chip cookies my mom used to bake?" he teased.
"Oh," she groaned, "no fair! That's a tough one. Would I trade my computer for your mom's chocolate chip cookies? I'm going to have to think about that one."
He moved closer, and the world around them shimmered and became hazy.
"Katie."
He brushed her hair over her ear, and the sensation of his touch reverberated along every nerve in her body. "Tell me what's wrong. I know something is, and I'm pretty sure it has to do with your father. I've talked to you. I've spilled my guts. Now you talk to me. Give me a chance to prove I'll be there for you, never let you down again."
The double assault on her senses, physical and emotional, was too much.
Her body turned toward him like a weather vane turning into the wind. She wanted to lay her head on that broad chest the way she'd once laid her head on it when it was skinny, tell him all about Papa and her worries, feel his arms about her as they soothed away her troubles, feel his warm breath in her hair and on her neck, let all her problems dissolve as her soul and her body merged with Luke's.
One hand curved around the back of her neck while the other slipped down to her waist, and she felt as if she'd come home at last. Luke's eyelids drooped languorously. His lips parted slightly.
"Kate! Spencer! What are you two doing back here? Oh, that's not Spencer, is it?"
Kate jumped back guiltily, away from Luke and from her own insane cravings. What was the matter with her? A sudden bout of masochism, a desire to jump back into the fire after she'd crawled out, scorched and scarred, seventeen years ago?
On the next balcony, Whitney Upchurch, long blond hair streaming down like Rapunzel's, leaned over the balcony and flashed her toothpaste smile.
So much for the idea that knowing your neighbors was a positive attribute of this area.
"Hello, Whitney. This is Luke Rodgers, my father's deputy from Briar Creek. We came to pick up some legal documents for Papa. He forgot to call and they're being messengered over here any minute now." She was explaining way too much, sounding guilty.
Well, she felt guilty.
This had not been a good idea to come here after all.
"Nice to meet you, Whitney," Luke said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to put the steaks on the grill."
"And I'd better get the baked potatoes in the microwave. We have to eat here instead of going out because if we left, we might miss the messenger." She was doing it again! Explaining everything in detail as though she had something to hide. Which she didn't. Not really.
Still, it felt like she did.
***
Luke cooked the steaks while Kate made baked potatoes and a salad, then they sat down at her glass and wood dining table to eat. The atmosphere between them had returned to strained.
"This is very good," Luke said. "I don't know why you keep saying you can't cook."
Kate took another bite of steak, chewed and swallowed. "It doesn't take much ability to make baked potatoes and a salad."
"That meal you cooked Saturday night took a lot of ability."
Kate slathered more sour cream on her potato. She didn't want to think about that night or that meal.
"I guess Sheriff must have told you those were my favorite foods."
Kate froze with a bite of potato halfway to her mouth. "Your favorite foods?"
"Well, not my only favorites, but those are sure on the top of the list."
"But—"
Luke looked up from cutting a bite of steak and frowned. "What? You didn't know those were my favorite foods? It was all a coincidence?" He shrugged and gave a wry grin. "Well, so much for my ego. I thought you were trying to impress me."
"No," she said slowly, her mouth suddenly so dry she could hardly speak, "I don't think it was a coincidence." Luke must have mentioned something to Papa who had then become confused and said they were his favorite foods. Then at dinner he had mentioned how he'd never tasted the mushrooms before but hoped he would again. He'd forgotten his own confused story.
She lifted her glass of wine with a shaky hand and tossed down the last swallow.
Luke leaned over the table. "I'm only teasing you. It doesn’t matter if you didn't cook my favorite foods on purpose." He studied her intently, his gaze so probing she dropped hers to watch her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap.
"Katie, I know something's wrong. I also know you don't want to talk to me about it, but if you change your mind, I'm here. I'll always be here."
"I don't know about you, but I'm ready to tie into that chocolate cheesecake we brought at the grocery store. I hope it's thawed. If it isn't, we could just eat it frozen. Probably use more calories chewing that way. Maybe break a few teeth, of course, but—"
He reached across the table and lifted her chin, forcing her to face him. "Stop chattering. If you don't want to tell me your problems, that's okay. You don't have to."
And you don't have to be so seductive—physically and emotionally.
She slid back her chair and went to the kitchen to get the cheesecake. Surely a little chocolate would help to put things back in their proper perspective. Heck, it had as much chance as anything else!
They were just finishing the cheesecake when her cell phone rang.
Kate left the table and went to sit on her sofa. "Hello?"
"Hi, Katie-girl! Did the messenger come yet?"
She'd become so involved in Luke and all the chaos of her own mind, Kate had almost forgotten why they were there. "No, he hasn't come yet, and it's getting late."
"Sure is. I'd better check on things. I'll tell you what, if the messenger doesn't come and you don't hear from me in the next hour, why don't you and Luke just spend the night there, get those papers tomorrow and drive back here in the morning?"
"What?"
Papa couldn't be suggesting what she thought he was.
"I'd sure feel a lot safer if you didn't have to make that trip back late tonight. You've had a couple of glasses of wine, not too much, I know you wouldn't do that, but enough to make you sleepy on that long, dark drive back. I tell you, I'd worry myself sick the whole time you were on the road. Luke could have that bedroom where you always put me. That's a real comfortable bed in there."
Kate gave a fleeting thought to wondering how Papa knew they'd been drinking wine and exactly how much, but she had bigger things to worry about.
"Papa, we can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Because we can't. It wouldn't look right."
Papa chuckled softly. "Katie-girl, this isn't the fifties. I'm your father and I trust you. Who else matters?"
"Spencer! It wouldn't look right to Spencer."
"Spencer doesn't trust you?"
"Of course he trusts me!"
"Then I don't see a problem. You give it another hour then you both go to bed. If the guy doesn't come tonight, you can scoot back to the courthouse tomorrow then head home in the morning."
"Papa! If those papers aren't here in an hour, we're starting home!"
"Oh, Katie, I wish you wouldn't do that. My heart went to bouncing around in my chest like the dickens just at the thought of you and Luke out there on that long, dark drive, and me being the one to get the call and have to investigate." He paused. "It brings back memories of when your mama had that wreck."
Dark, consuming guilt washed over Kate. "I'd never deliberately worry you, Papa. We'll spend the night here. You have a good evening and we'll see you in the morning."
Surely for the sake of not worrying her father she could stay under the same roof with Luke for one night without losing control of her hormones or her emotions. It was, she
supposed, a small enough thing for Papa to ask.
She hung up the phone and turned to face Luke who was watching her with a puzzled expression. "Papa doesn't want us to drive home tonight. He wants us to stay here. You can have the guest room."
Luke rose from the table. "Why doesn't he want us to come home tonight?"
"He's afraid we'll have a wreck and he'll be the one to investigate, the way it happened with Mama."
Luke sucked in a quick breath. "Damn. I forgot about that. That had to be a nightmare for him. We'll stay here. No way would I worry him like that."
Ghost of Summer Page 13
