Lost and Found Groom

by McLinn, Patricia

  He didn’t appear as surprised as Daniel felt that, instead of getting in his car and driving away, he’d strode over to volunteer his muscles to the task he’d noticed Luke performing as he’d headed for Kendra’s door.

  Then, he’d been prepared for battle–with her and with himself.

  Now, the leftover adrenaline and some other hormone that had been rioting against the discipline of his mind, demanding that he grab Kendra and kiss her until they both forgot everything except what they’d found during the hurricane, had him jumpy and on edge.

  On second thought, Luke’s expression not only didn’t betray surprise, it didn’t give any reaction away.

  Luke Chandler would be hell to face across a poker table with a pot at stake. For some reason that thought cheered Daniel. He wouldn’t mind the challenge.

  “You know what you’re doing when it comes to fixing fence?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “You said you couldn’t ride, either. Noticed you didn’t fall off.”

  “Not while you were looking anyhow.”

  “I’d’ve known.” Luke said with such off-hand assurance that Daniel believed him. “You know that if Kendra had said she wanted you gone that first day, I would have tossed you out on your butt. And, if she changes her mind and says the word now or any time in the future, I’ll still toss you out on your butt.”

  Daniel understood the other man was laying his cards on the table, and he appreciated that.

  “You can try,” he allowed equably. A small part of him almost wished the ranch foreman would try. It would give this pent-up energy somewhere to vent.

  “Fair enough. There’s another pair of gloves in that bag.”

  “Okay.” As he walked back to Luke, pulling on the heavy gloves, Daniel surprised himself for the second time in these past five minutes, by offering, “I could take you up flying sometime, Luke.”

  “I might take you up on that.” A slow smile spread across the other man’s face. “I’d like to see what it is you do know how to do. Grab hold here while I use the stretcher.”

  Daniel grabbed hold, and for nearly three hours he tugged, held and yanked as ordered. Sweat soaked his shirt, then his chest, back and arms when he took off the shirt. Even his dark skin would feel the bite of the sun, especially across his shoulders.

  It felt good, damned good to work his muscles, to sweat, to be physically tired.

  But as a remedy to stop thinking about Matthew and Kendra, this little foray into fence-fixing was a total failure.

  *

  The first time she spotted Daniel out her back window, Kendra nearly spilled her fresh glass of water all over the keyboard of her laptop computer.

  She’d gotten up and poured out the old water and replaced it in the hope that new water might somehow translate to a new train of thought. Every stop on the old train of thought had been Daniel Benton Delligatti.

  And now there he stood some thirty yards beyond her window.

  Actually, if he’d simply stood it might not have been so bad. But he bent and twisted and squatted and stretched. When he took his shirt off, she’d considered for half a minute going out there and demanding that he leave.

  Just as quickly, she’d realized what a mistake it would be to let him know how the sight of him affected her.

  So, she stayed inside, stubbornly remaining at the table, telling herself she had the self-discipline to get her work done no matter who was outside the window.

  When Matthew got up from his nap, she closed the lid of the laptop feeling like he’d brought her a reprieve from the governor. She’d written a grand total of four and a half sentences in two hours.

  At least she succeeded in keeping Matthew occupied so he didn’t spot Luke and Daniel outside. There would have been no peace.

  Maybe she’d actually get some peace with Daniel going away for a while. If she was lucky he’d stay away.

  Even as the thought came, she had to acknowledge that contemplating the possibility of Daniel never returning to Far Hills didn’t make her feel the least bit lucky.

  *

  Kendra kept so busy over the next six days that she couldn’t be expected to even notice Daniel’s absence, much less come close to missing him.

  She worked, did three shifts at the co-op, and took care of Emily two afternoons. She also fed Ben and Meg dinner and oversaw their homework endeavors, leaving Ellyn free to have dinner in town with Fran before going to parent-teacher night at the grade school.

  Yes, indeed, she was so busy Daniel Delligatti never would have crossed her mind if other people didn’t keep bringing him up.

  Matthew’s queries were direct and delivered each time he arrived at the co-op: “Dan’l?”

  “No, Matthew, Daniel’s gone away and he’s not back yet.”

  People at the co-op were nearly as direct in asking when Daniel would be back. Not satisfied when she told them she had no idea, they went on to extol his good nature with the kids. Fran, too, followed that routine, then referred to Daniel caring for Matthew the night of the country club dinner as if it were a done deal.

  Kendra ignored it.

  Marti wasn’t as easy to ignore when she came to pick up Emily four days before the country club dinner.

  “About Daniel taking care of Matthew–”

  “It isn’t going to happen.”

  “When are you going to tell Daniel it isn’t going to happen?”

  “I can’t very well tell him now, can I, since he’s not around. Who knows if he’ll even come back.”

  “You don’t think he’ll come back?”

  “No–yes. I don’t know.”

  Marti watched while Kendra took great care in folding Matthew’s undershirt.

  “No, I don’t suppose you do know, do you? As you’ve said, he’s a stranger. You don’t really know him.”

  Kendra said nothing.

  “Or don’t you feel that way anymore?” Marti asked bluntly.

  She prepared the words to deny that she’d changed her mind, the words that would reaffirm what an absolute stranger he remained. What came out was, “I know pieces.”

  “Pieces?”

  I’m all those men. They’re part of me.

  “Yes, pieces. Some pieces he’s let me see, and other … fragments have come out.”

  “You make him sound like a jigsaw puzzle,” Marti protested with a half smile, as she watched Kendra’s hands repeating the familiar, routine motions of folding Matthew’s next undershirt.

  Kendra shrugged. “If so, I’m a long way from putting that puzzle together. And I doubt I ever will, because he’s not the kind to hand over all the pieces.”

  Marti’s gaze traveled up to her face. Kendra found herself unable to read her aunt’s expression.

  “Ah, but you were always good at putting together puzzles, Kendra, even without the picture to go by. Even when Dale Sinclair had hidden away some of the pieces.”

  That conversation rattled around in Kendra’s head at odd moments, driving into town or washing dishes or staring at the computer screen waiting for the right lead on a story to strike her or rocking Matthew when he woke with a bad dream one night.

  But a brief exchange with Luke as she arrived home Monday evening with Emily and Matthew from the co-op really got under her skin.

  He pulled his pickup in next to where she’d just parked her car, and without any fanfare helped take the kids out, then carried two-thirds of the groceries into the house for her.

  “Thanks, Luke.”

  “Welcome. Expecting Daniel for dinner?”

  Caught off guard, her voice skidded up. “No.” She cleared her throat. “What on earth made you think that?”

  He nodded toward two steaks showing at the top of one of the bags he’d carried in.

  “I eat steak,” she declared.

  “Two at a time?”

  “I often cook things two at a time and eat the second portion as leftovers,” she said with great dignity.

  “Uh-
huh.”

  She started to protest that she was telling the absolute truth, when she caught the glint in his eyes and firmly shut her mouth.

  “So, do you think he’s coming back, or did you scare him off for good?”

  Her resolve to ignore his prodding evaporated in a spurt of irritation. “Scared him off? I–”

  “Yeah, you might be right,” he interrupted with a solemn nod, as if her protest had been an answer. “You might have scared him off for good with your too-strong-and-too-smart-to-be-needing-anybody-anyway-anytime-anywhere act. It wasn’t a bad act when we were kids, but you’ve got it down pat now,” he said in spurious admiration.

  “Luke Chandler, you–”

  “ ’Course, I’m one who’s hoping he comes back.”

  That surprised her enough to silence her sputtering.

  “Yep,” he said with a nod as he headed toward the door. “The man won’t ever be much on horseback, but he’s got potential for mending fence, as you saw for yourself last week.”

  *

  Ellyn tapped the tip of her pen against one item on the yellow legal pad on the table between them.

  “If you could break that out into a sidebar,” she said, “I could package it with the line drawing of Fort Big Horn before the Indians burned it down.”

  “I could do that, but then–Oh, darn.” Kendra gave Ellyn an exasperated shake of her head as she jumped up to get the phone. “How many times is this thing going to ring today? You’d think with Matthew at co-op–Hello?”

  “Kendra? It’s Luke.”

  “Hi, Luke. What can I do for you?” She let enough chill into her voice to remind him she was not amused by his comments the day before yesterday.

  “Fran asked me to call. She thinks you better get down here, to the church.”

  Fear immediately overrode any other emotion. “Is it Matthew? Is he–?”

  “He’s fine. It’s nothing like that. It’s, uh, well, I drove Marti in to pick up Emily because I had a stop in town, too, and . . . It’s Daniel.”

  “Daniel?” Nothing in Luke’s tone indicated he was kidding. Still . . . “He’s back East.”

  “No, he’s here, at the co-op. Got back this afternoon from what I hear. But . . . Well, I think you better get down here.”

  “Luke, if you’re–”

  “Kendra. I’m telling you straight.” His voice left no doubt. “You better get down here.”

  “Luke, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” she demanded, even while she stretched the phone cord to reach her jacket on the hook by the back door. She tended to slip her car keys into pockets–yes, there they were. Ellyn stood, looking worried. Kendra gave a small shake of her head to convey she didn’t know what was going on. “Is he hurt? Is it–”

  “No, I told you, nothing like that. The kids are mostly gone, and he’s just playing the piano, but. . .”

  “But what?”

  He paused so long that her lungs began to hurt with her held breath and half-thought worries.

  “It’s Chopin.”

  Air rushed out of her in surprise, and she gulped more in. “Chopin? I don’t understand.”

  “You will when you get here.” He sounded grim.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Ellyn announced she was coming with. “And,” she added, taking the keys from Kendra’s hand, “I’m driving.”

  On the way into town she insisted Kendra fill in the gaps of the conversation she’d half heard. Repeating it did nothing to ease Kendra’s mind or to give order to her jumbled thoughts.

  Luke waited in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, outside the basement meeting room used for the babysitting co-op. Piano music seeped out of the closed door.

  “What happened, Luke?”

  “I don’t know how it started. I’d dropped Marti off, and swung ’round to the supply store for a mortar drill bit. When I came back, Fran and a couple of parents were here in the hallway and the kids were sitting on the floor inside, quiet as mice, everybody listening to that music.” He tipped his head toward the door. “Fran asked me to call you, and she went in and started scooting kids out to their folks.”

  “She didn’t think–” Kendra couldn’t even voice the possibility that Daniel would hurt the children.

  “Naw. She didn’t want to disturb Daniel.”

  Through the door’s glass insert, Kendra spotted Fran and Marti sitting to one side with Matthew and Emily in their laps, all four of them listening to the music coming from the old, vaguely out-of-tune upright more often used for “Happy Birthday” or “Old McDonald.” Despite that–or maybe partly because of it–the music had a power and pathos that tightened her throat.

  The piano blocked her view of Daniel, so she saw only the top of his dark head.

  “You know the classics, Luke?” Ellyn asked.

  “Can’t say I know them. But Chopin . . . Somebody once told me she figured Chopin wanted to make you hear pain in beautiful music.”

  Kendra looked around, but Luke didn’t meet her eyes.

  Ellyn laid a hand on her arm. “I’ll take Matthew home with me, Kendra. You come by later if you want, or we’ll keep him overnight, whatever you need, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks. Both of you.”

  Kendra inhaled, then eased the door open. The motion caught the attention of all four listeners. In a flash, Matthew slid off Fran’s lap and trundled toward her with a big grin. The others followed more sedately.

  “Dan’l,” Matthew announced, pointing a chubby finger toward the piano.

  She laid a finger across her lips, and wonder of wonders, Matthew obeyed as they all exited.

  The music never faltered.

  Letting the door swing silently closed again, Kendra scooched down to her son’s level.

  “Dan’l,” he repeated emphatically.

  “Yes, Daniel’s back.” That acknowledgment seemed to satisfy him. She concentrated on keeping her voice even and calm as she quickly told Matthew that he’d be going to the Sinclairs’ for dinner and maybe overnight.

  She had to admit this semblance of calm was for her own sake, not his. She probably could have sobbed out the news and it wouldn’t have fazed her son. The prospect of going to the Sinclairs, where Meg and even Ben catered to his every whim, thrilled Matthew.

  “I’ll be in my office upstairs for another hour doing paperwork if you need anything, Kendra.” Fran patted her on the shoulder before following Ellyn and Matthew down the hall.

  “We’d best get going, too, Marti,” Luke said to his employer, who still held her daughter’s hand.

  “Kendra–” She sounded worried.

  “It’s all right, Marti.”

  Marti nodded. “That boy’s got a lot of pain in him, but you can help him, Kendra.”

  If she’d had time, the change in Marti’s attitude might have astounded Kendra. Instead, she was too focused on the man at the piano to do more than file away the comment.

  In another minute the two adults and the little girl had disappeared up the stairs, and Kendra remained alone in the hallway with the haunting music seeping through the old walls.

  She quietly opened the door and stepped inside.

  Daniel sat on the battered wooden bench, slightly hunched, his eyes open but unfocused as his hands traveled the keyboard. Even from the distance she kept, the gaunt look his face had taken on shocked her. His jaw was darkened by stubble, the area under his eyes darkened by lack of sleep and his eyes themselves darkened by the same kind of pain she heard flowing through the music.

  He gave no sign of hearing her.

  She stood motionless, except for tears that slipped down silently and relentlessly. Luke was right about the pain in this beautiful music. And Marti was right about the pain in Daniel.

  But was Marti right that she could help ease it?

  And then the music stopped.

  “Kendra.” He still hadn’t looked around.

  “Yes.”

  “I scared everyone else off, huh?
”

  “No.”

  “I started playing, and . . .”

  “It was beautiful.”

  He half turned toward her, and she saw his attempt at a grin. It fell far short. “Madame Romaine would be pleased someone thought so. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Not after all the times she gave me grief for not applying myself. She never thought I deserved to create anything beautiful, because I didn’t practice. Didn’t give it my all . . . like everything else in my life.”

  “Except flying.”

  He didn’t look as surprised as she felt that she’d chosen that example.

  “Except flying,” he agreed without inflection.

  “And Taumaturgio.”

  He said nothing. And before she could probe his silence, he positioned his fingers for a chord, then, instead of pressing all the keys together, he played each note separately.

  “Being a father isn’t flying. What if I let Matthew down, like I let Madame Romaine down and–” His fingers curled against the keys. “–the others?”

  “I don’t know how you can say that, Daniel.” She moved beside the bench, pressing her hand against her side to keep from stroking his hair as she would to console Matthew. As she had done to Paulo Ayudor during the storm, though then the gesture had brought rather than given consolation. “Think of all the people you helped in Santa Estella. The children. That’s not–”

  “Helped? I let people down.”

  “How can you say–”

  “I flew in, dropped a few miracles with a flourish–showtime!” Even in profile she recognized his grimace. “But how many didn’t I help? Didn’t get to. Couldn’t get the right supplies. Didn’t have the time. So many . . . I failed. Had to fight the system. Tried for more, and lost it all. All those kids I can’t help now. How about them?”

  “Maybe it’s somebody else’s turn to help them,” she said gently. “Maybe you can’t do it all.”

  He shook his head. “It should be me.”

  He slid over on the bench, and she took the invitation to sit beside him. But he stared at his fingers spread on the piano keys.

  “All those years, I used to wonder. . . It didn’t add up. But on Santa Estella, it finally made sense.”

  “What made sense, Daniel?”

  “Why I got out. Why I didn’t die on the streets like so many other kids. Why the Delligattis came into my life. Why my life was the one changed–saved. I wasn’t any smarter or better than any of the rest of them. I stole the same things, told the same lies–It never made sense. But when I was helping those kids on Santa Estella, for the first time, I could see. . . Even the flying. Flying wasn’t just a gift, it was a tool.”