Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select) (21 page)

Lila gaped over her shoulder as the tornado grew larger, creeping closer. More debris—oh God, was that a car?—swirled around the edges of the swollen funnel; larger, more dangerous-looking projectiles flying perilously close to the windows of the Financial One Building where she and Mark made their way inch by inch into the outside corridor.

Mark wrapped his arm around her back, hugging her to him and pushing them forward with the crowd. She thought of Jake and what he might be doing. Sitting safe and sound in his house, she hoped. Not out in this.

J
ake couldn’t go any farther. Locked in traffic beneath the overpass, he had to wait out the storm with the hundreds of other cars parked on the road.

While the conditions outside his window were growing more dangerous by the minute, the consuming fear in his heart ate away at him until he couldn’t sit a second longer. Jake threw open the door on the truck and dashed into the rain.

He could see the top of the Financial One Building as he ran, but no sign of the tornado advancing on the other side of downtown. Although from the ragged pieces of glass and other debris raining down around him, he knew the tornado was not far away.

He saw mini-blinds, chairs, and big, lethal pieces of glass scattering the sidewalks. One enormous triangular piece of glass drove into the soft ground of the open grassy area directly ahead, tremoring with the impact.

Only one place big glass like that could come from: the office buildings. Like the Financial One Building where Lila sat unprotected on the thirty-fifth floor.

Jake dodged a sailing trash can.

Less than five blocks stood between him and Lila, but hail had started up again. Large softball-sized hail.

One of those to the head would kill him. If flying debris didn’t.

Come on, Lila. Be smart. Stay safe. Get to the stairs or inside the ladies’ room. Get away from the windows
, he thought.

He chanted it over and over, hoping if he said it enough, she’d somehow get the message and protect herself since he couldn’t do it.

Life really had shitty timing sometimes. Had it only been today the doc had pronounced him cancer-free? That Jake would live another year, probably many more? And his first thought had been about Lila. How hard he’d been pushing her away, only to discover he wanted her here in Hannington and with him.

If cancer hadn’t killed him, neither would a tornado.

Jake ran faster.

S
he could see the open doorway to the stairwell. Although one hundred people stood between her and the safest spot on the thirty-fifth floor, Lila figured she and Mark were out of harm’s way.

That is, until all the windows on the west side of the building blew and shrapnel flew through the restaurant and out into the corridor. It was too late to try to shut the double oak doors. Besides, people were still blocking the entrance, trapped like cattle being led to some kind of designer slaughter.

She plunged to the floor next to Mark at the same time someone shouted, “Get down!”

A man on her left fell into her as a hurtling piece of glass whizzed by, scraping his face. He looked dazed and in pain, but not critical. And then the blood began to flow.

“Are you okay?” she yelled over the screams in the hall. Mark took his elbow and helped him to sit upright. His wife, several steps ahead, turned back and saw him on the floor.

“Walter!” She dropped to her knees and crawled around several people to reach him.

Lila ripped a large swath of cloth from the bottom of her dress and held it to the cut, which bled like a compromised dam.

“Put pressure on it,” she told him as his wife arrived at his side. He nodded and took over, his wife’s hand supporting his.

Lila huddled next to Mark, reviewing the scene around them. They couldn’t make it to the stairwell. Too many people were in the way, most on the floor in various positions.

She peeked over his shoulder to witness the blinds and curtains blowing out through open windows, table settings disappearing off tables, hell, entire tables disappearing along with chairs on the far west side.

She could hear the rumbling of the tornado now, like a very large and heavy train coming down the track. The debris that had been previously sucked out the window came crashing back in through the north side, sending glass and objects spinning into the restaurant.

Mark grabbed the back of her head and forced it down to the floor. “Don’t look up. Cover your neck with your hands,” he shouted in her ear.

She covered the nape of her neck with her hands, thinking that a fragile barrier separated her from certain paralysis if a shard of glass sliced through her hands and into her neck.

And then she thought of Jake again and what his life and death battles must have been like all these years. To always have an ax hanging over his head, waiting for it to fall.

That wasn’t the way to live. In fear. Life should be celebrated, no matter how long or short. For Jake, he’d made sure there were as few people as possible to grieve over him after he was gone. But Lila had always thought he had it wrong, and now she knew for sure.

If she died, here, tonight, she’d have very few regrets—outside of losing Jake. She’d lived a good life, done her best. So if it was her time, she went with a light heart.

She didn’t think he could say the same. So she had to stay alive. Convince him to open up and live again. Share himself with the people who loved him. And to celebrate life.

Celebrate it with her.

Lesson Number Twenty-Five —

Use making love as an opportunity to affirm your devotion.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A
block from his destination, the police arrived. Jake ignored them, his eyes fixed on the thirty-five-story glass building dead ahead. A marvel of cutting-edge design when it was built in 1970, the building had sustained the worst kind of beating from Mother Nature.

Shattered glass crunched under his heels as he jumped the curb and headed for the entrance. The cops discussing the near miss of the tornado yelled at him, but he ignored them and wove his way through debris, keeping a wary eye overhead.

He slid in through the front door and raced for the set of stairs that would take him to the mezzanine and the bank of elevators. He refused to think of Lila lying injured. Or worse.

Shit.
The elevators were off-limits. They could be damaged. He’d take the stairs all the way to the top. Looking around, he found the stairwell and charged through the door, taking the steps two at a time, counting the seconds that delayed him reaching Lila’s side.

When he reached the third floor he heard people above him.

“Are you folks all right?” he asked, searching the knot of shaken people for his wife’s familiar face.

“Is it over?” a young man in a black business suit asked him.

“Nearly. Glass is still falling. The wind is vicious, but it appears the tornado missed us. The police are right outside.”

He heard a woman sob as he pushed past and climbed higher.

On the twentieth floor he encountered a throng of people. He stopped to let several people by, again searching for Lila.

“Were you folks at the party on the thirty-fifth floor?” he asked a middle-aged woman in a gold gown.

“Yes,” she said, her warm brown eyes tearing up.

“Do you know Lila Gentry? Is she okay?”

The woman shook her head and moved on.

Jake swallowed his terror and searched over the heads of the people moving down the stairs, praying to see the accustomed bounce of his wife’s blond curls.

She wasn’t there.

Fuck.
He climbed higher still, sweat breaking out on his forehead and his heart pounding.

Come on, Lila, where are you?

And then he saw her. Up a flight and just coming through the fire door into the stairwell.

“Lila!” Jake nearly collapsed to his knees, his relief was so great. She’d never looked more beautiful. He would never again take the sight of her for granted.

Mark saw him before Lila did. He smiled brightly and nodded, stepping back to let Lila go ahead. Jake raced the last set of stairs until he stood directly below them, people flowing around him.

His heart pounded in his ears. His hands shook with suppressed emotion. He found his vocal cords wouldn’t work, even though his mouth opened to emit the words: “You’re safe!”

She saw his boots first and her eyes flew the rest of the way to his face. “Jake! What are you doing here?”

Her hands came up and he noticed the blood for the first time. It covered her hands and arms and a large portion of the front of her dress.

“God, Lila, you’re hurt.” A hot moisture burned the backs of his eyes as he found his voice at last.

“No, no. The man next to me was hit, cut his head.” Tears slid down her cheeks. She reached for him and he was there, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her up into his embrace. Blazing a trail of kisses from her forehead to her lips.

This is where she should be. Always and forever. In his arms. Safe. Secure. Home.

He knew that now.

“I’m a dumbass,” he said, staring into her shocked eyes.

“Pardon?” She blinked, confused.

“I’m a dumbass for not following you to Dallas ten years ago. For refusing to own my fear and recognize I needed you more than I needed my damn pride. I’m as imperfect as they come, darlin’. But after running through a tornado this evening, I realized that’s not even the scariest thing I faced today.”

“The prodigal son has returned at long last.” Mark gave Jake a healthy slap on the back and moved down the stairwell several steps.

Jake caught an exchange of glances between him and a flamboyantly attired young man with an overly styled Mohawk. And in that moment, it all made sense to Jake. Mark’s behavior. His extravagant use of trendy grammar, and his impeccable sense of style.

The man was gay. Damn. He was a Texas-sized dumbass this day. Jake owed Mark a huge apology and a thank-you for caring for his wife so well.

“I can’t live without you. And I realized that no matter my future, cancer or no cancer, my life is mine to make something of. No more hiding. I’m out. And I’m proud.”

“About time,” Mark yelled.

Jake laughed at the humor of the statement, his and Mark’s.

Lila shook her head, and stared into his eyes. He recognized the love shining there. “How did you get here?”

He thought back over the last several hours, the struggle to reach her. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, Lila Winter, and I’m never letting you go to another party in Fort Worth without me.”

The tears came faster, but with a smile this time.

“You called me Lila Winter.”

He returned her smile and added a hot tearstained kiss on her lips. “I did. And I’m hoping that this time when I give you my name, you’ll keep it.”

The second tender kiss tasted warm, sweet, and full of so much life. Thank God. He wouldn’t blow this second chance. This do-over.

“Are you asking me to marry you? Again?” She laughed.

“I am. And in front of all these people.”

She lifted her head, looking at the people standing on the stairs with them. An impromptu cheer went up and she blushed a very becoming shade of pink.

“Well, then. I accept.”

T
oday is a new beginning. Not a fresh start or a clean slate as the evangelicals might tell, but a chance to fulfill my potential as a woman. And to consider the day began like all the recent other days! Hopeless and grim. Despite the dawn of a new sun.

Today, Luke Pierce came home. What a homecoming it was, too. He blew into the Acre after an absence of several months, shotguns loaded and holstered on his big stallion, challenging any and all who stood between him and the Two Nellies.

Challenging all who would keep him from me.

I didn’t discover until much later that Luke’s charge down into the Acre followed a heated meeting with the sheriff. Luke was of course the winner in the debate—or so I consider him to be. But I get ahead of myself…

Upon hearing the clatter down on the boardwalk from my window above, I made my way downstairs to find Luke prying the boards off my front door. The sheriff had installed them as a preventative against the wages of sin, warning off would-be customers from the Two Nellies. Thankfully, all it did was keep looters from making off with the remaining whiskey.

I met Luke at the door, and without a word, he grabbed me and tossed me over a shoulder and swept me from the house.

“Luke! What’s eating you! Put me down,” I shouted against his strong back.

“Prudence,” he growled and patted my bottom with a firm palm. “Now is not the time to argue with me, woman. I mean to change this situation, and removing you from this place is the first step.”

“You will do no such thing, Luke Pierce! This is my fight and I intend to win or die trying.” I knew I would never best Luke in a physical fight, but I put one up nonetheless. The dead last thing I wanted was Luke punished for my sins.

“It’s set and done, Pru. You’re finished in the Acre and the sheriff has agreed to let all charges drop if you vacate. So that’s what we’re doin’, darlin’. Vacatin’ pronto.”

“But my house!” The customers and the girls were long gone and the property was the sole possession remaining.

Luke dropped me across the front of his saddle and climbed up behind me. “After we’re married, I’ll deed it back to you free and clear. You can do what you want with it then, on the condition you never live in the Acre or run a saloon down here again.”

In that moment I questioned everything. What I was fighting for, who I was fighting against, and what the future held.

And my dears, I had the final epiphany!

Love had arrived on a stallion with double-barrel shotguns and I would be twelve kinds of fool to shoo it away. So I did what any Irishwoman with good sense would do.

I kissed Luke on the mouth and smiled up into his warm whiskey-colored eyes.

“Take me home, sir!”