Comanche Moon

by Catherine Anderson

  ‘‘It still worries me.’’

  ‘‘Well, stop worrying. It’s a friendly little house. Have you ever walked through a door and felt instantly at home?’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ Deirdre replied, beginning to sound calmer. ‘‘When Michael and I were looking to buy, that’s exactly how we felt when we finally found our house.’’

  ‘‘Well, that’s the feeling I got here. It’s just right somehow. I can’t wait to start decorating. I’m thinking of sage green here in the living room, with a darker shade on the fireplace wall to accentuate the brick and oak. It’s going to be a dollhouse when I’m finished with it.’’

  ‘‘I’m sure it will be,’’ Deirdre conceded. ‘‘You’re a professional decorator, after all. And a one-year lease will be perfect, too. That’ll give you time to get your shop on its feet and make sure you like living in Crystal Falls before you buy a place of your own.’’

  Loni pirouetted slowly to take in the room again. ‘‘I know it’s premature, but I’m no longer quite so worried about liking it here. All the snow was my biggest concern, but now that I’ve found this house, I can cross that worry off my list. The driveway and front walk are pretty short. I’ll be able to clear them in no time. I’m actually excited. Isn’t that great?’’

  ‘‘It’s fabulous.’’ Deirdre released a taut breath. ‘‘I’m sorry for going on and on at you. I just want you to be happy, is all.’’

  ‘‘I know that, and I honestly think I will be here. It’s such a cute little place. Nice solid doors, too, inside and out. Once I get some deadbolts and a security system installed, I’ll feel safe as a baby in its mother’s arms.’’

  ‘‘We need to celebrate somehow,’’ Deirdre suggested, clearly trying to show the enthusiasm she had failed to at first. ‘‘How about a special dinner tonight?’’

  ‘‘That’d be nice.’’ Loni glanced at her watch. ‘‘And since you worked all day, I’ll do the cooking. How does beef bourguignon with hot, homemade biscuits sound? Gram’s recipe only takes about three hours. I’ll stop at a store on the way home to pick up everything I’ll need. We can feed the boys hot dogs, get them into bed, and have a grown-up night.’’

  ‘‘Beef bourguignon? Yum. I haven’t had that in ages. I’ll call Michael and ask him to pick up a nice burgundy from the wine shop. Is there any kind you especially like?’’

  Loni was about to answer when a bright flash of light suddenly blinded her. The next instant, she saw a jet-haired cowboy standing before the fireplace hearth, his booted feet planted wide apart, his work-roughened hands resting on his narrow hips. The shadow cast by the brim of his chocolate-colored Stetson did little to diminish the burning intensity in his dark brown eyes.

  ‘‘Loni?’’ Deirdre’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. ‘‘Loni, are you still there?’’

  Loni tried to speak, but her throat felt paralyzed. She finally managed a faint whisper. ‘‘Oh, God, Dee, it’s him.’’

  ‘‘Who?’’ Deirdre demanded.

  Loni could barely hear her sister now. It was like being trapped in a snow globe. She was in the same small living room, but it was different now, exactly how she’d imagined it would look in a few weeks when she finished decorating. A designer shade of sage green covered the walls, and colorful rugs graced the gleaming hardwood floors. An awful dizziness set her head to spinning, and for a moment, she thought she might faint.

  Then her senses suddenly cleared, and the room came into sharper focus. The cowboy still stood before her. Under the blue shirt, his shoulder muscles were bunched with tension. Loni could feel a cool breeze coming through an open window, and the scent of freshly cut grass wafted to her nostrils. Down the street somewhere, a dog was barking, and its owner yelled for it to be quiet.

  She heard herself say, ‘‘That’s an absolutely preposterous suggestion.’’

  She started to turn away, but the cowboy clamped a hard hand over her arm.

  ‘‘Look, lady,’’ he said in a deep voice that curled around her like hot wisps of smoke. ‘‘I’m no happier about this mess than you are. All this hocus-pocus stuff gives me the willies. I’ll also remind you that you’re the one who sought me out, not the other way around.’’

  Loni jerked her arm free of his grasp. ‘‘If I give you the willies, why are you even here?’’

  ‘‘That’s a damned good question.’’

  The vision evaporated as quickly as it came. An icy chill had raised goose bumps on Loni’s skin, and she was shaking violently. The awful dizziness assailed her again, and she dropped onto the sofa, too stunned to remain standing.

  ‘‘Loni!’’

  Deirdre’s voice still sounded far away. Struggling to focus, Loni finally spotted the cell phone lying on the hardwood floor where she must have dropped it. With a trembling hand, she scooped up the device and pressed it to her ear.

  ‘‘I’m okay,’’ she managed to croak, even though her head was still whirling.

  ‘‘You scared me half to death. What happened? Did you fall or something? I heard a loud crash.’’

  ‘‘I—um—dropped the phone.’’ Loni swallowed to steady her voice. ‘‘It was him, Deirdre.’’ Loni had been seeing the cowboy in her dreams practically all her life, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him in a waking vision. ‘‘My dream cowboy. It was my dream cowboy.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ Deirdre asked incredulously. ‘‘Where did you see him? Does he live next door or something?’’

  ‘‘No, no.’’ Another wave of nausea made Loni’s stomach pitch. ‘‘I didn’t actually see him. Not in the flesh, anyway." In the MacEwen family, it went without saying what Loni meant by that. ‘‘He was standing in front of the fireplace.’’ Loni broke off and swallowed hard again. ‘‘He touched me, Dee. That’s never happened before, not ever.’’

  ‘‘You don’t sound so good.’’

  "I’m dizzy and sick to my stomach. He crossed over somehow."

  ‘‘Crossed over? I’m not following.’’

  ‘‘He was real.’’ Loni heard the hysteria in her voice and struggled to calm down. ‘‘Not just a vision, but real. I actually felt his hand on my arm.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be right there,’’ Deirdre said. ‘‘Sit down and don’t move until I get there.’’