Never Let Go (8 page)

"Pretty Long Legs, can I have some more coffee, please?"

Rucker turned around and scowled at the big construction worker seated at the counter. "Her name's Din-Edna."

"Dinedna, can I have some more coffee, please?"

Rucker and she shared a droll look, and he wished suddenly that he could carry her out of this place to a private spot where they could make sense out of what was happening to them. "Hop to, Dinedna," he muttered.

She hurried to get a coffeepot, and he watched the determined, energetic way she moved. Whatever her secrets were, whatever truly motivated her, it worked well. She'd had very little sleep, she'd eaten only a package of cheese crackers for breakfast, and the morning had been decidedly traumatic. She was running on adrenaline and courage.

Katie
. That's what drove her. Rucker drew a soft breath and went back to his work without concentrating on it. His wife had a baby, there was no doubt about that. But he had no way of knowing whether the baby was his or whether it was in danger.

He wanted to believe that the baby was his daughter, and that Dinah could explain why she'd left him last summer, and that she'd touched him out of love this morning. All he knew at the moment was that events during their separation had changed her, somehow hurt her, and had finally merged her strength with a compelling sense of purpose that he couldn't help but respect.

"Bo save me!" Dinah Sheridan McClure, a highly intelligent and highly competent woman who knew all the Chopin piano etudes by heart and who read philosophy for fun, was beside him again, looking anxious. "What's a naked steak?"

He loved her. God, how he still loved her.

Five

"I never thought I'd be so happy over thirty dollars," Dinah admitted. "Minus ten for gas." She folded the remaining bills and tucked them into Rucker's shirt pocket, then leaned back on the truck seat and watched the Tennessee hills pass by.

"I was nineteen years old the last time I earned so little for so much work," he grumbled.

"Hmmm. Was that the summer you worked at the dog-food factory?"

"Yeah. I didn't have enough money to go back to college, but I had a lifetime supply of dog treats."

"You joined the Army that fall, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"I was ten years old. I think that was the summer Mom and Dad took me to Europe."

"Lord, Dee, you and I are a strange pair."

His second use of her nickname subdued them both. Rucker's thick brows drew together in a pensive expression.

"Thank you." she said quickly. "I've missed it. You can even call me
Deedee
."

"Nah. You never liked that."

"I pretended not to like it."

"How many other things did you pretend about?"

Dinah inhaled sharply. Despite the companionable mood created by their morning's work, his anger and pain still lay just beneath the surface. She stared resolutely out the window.

"When are you gonna tell me where we're headed?" he asked in a grim tone.

"When we get there."

"Very funny."

"Did it ever occur to you that Jeopard may be listening to everything we say? It's unlikely, but possible. You wouldn't believe the sophistication of electronic listening devices—some are the size of postage stamps— and he could have put them in the seams of your clothes, your boot heels, your wallet. He'd plant bugs on you just in case I contacted you, and you'd never suspect it."

"You realty think Jeopard's got me bugged?"

"Probably not. Otherwise, we'd be in custody by now. But I can't be certain. I won't risk it."

Rucker popped the truck into a lower gear as they hit a steep grade. The engine made a straining sound. "Hope it's not all like this. We won't make it."

Dinah's reply was troubled. "We
have
to make it."

A half hour later, Boaz Halfacre's old truck climbed to a mountain plateau, decided enough was enough, and choked to a halt.

After inspecting under the hood, Rucker came back to the cab and muttered, "Jeopard, if you're listenin', you sneaky bastard, would you call Triple A?"

"What's wrong with the engine?"

"Probably the carburetor. I can't be sure, but if I had a decent toolbox I might be able to fix it."

Dinah stepped out, braced a hand on the door frame, and began to push. "Then we'll find someone who can loan us one."

"You've got the spunk of a blind ant tryin' to move an elephant. Take it easy."

She looked across the cab at him and said softly, "After you hold Katie in your arms, you'll understand."

His green eyes burned into her blue ones for a moment. "Katherine Ann," he murmured pensively. "All right. I'm gonna believe in her."

Rucker put his shoulder against the door frame and shoved the truck into motion.

***

The farmhouse was small, weathered, and inviting. It sat back from the road with towering mountains for a background and a maple grove for close company. A barn and other outbuildings surrounded it. A dozen red-and-white Hereford cattle grazed in a pasture nearby.

By the time they pushed the truck up the rutted gravel driveway, Dinah was panting and sweat ran down Rucker's face despite the day's cool temperature.

A small, golden-haired woman walked out on the front porch of the house, smiling shyly. She wore a heavy beige sweater under a blue jumper. The jumper ballooned over what must surely be an advanced pregnancy. An anxious, aching emptiness stirred under Dinah's rib cage. When she looked at the pregnant woman's face, she knew that she wasn't much more than a child herself.

"Hi, folks," the blonde said in a sweet voice laced with an accent that made Rucker's sound cosmopolitan. "Can I help y'all?"

Rucker cleared his throat and spoke politely. "Ma'am, I'm Abe MacLane and this is my wife . . . Bethesda. We're headed home from visitin' a sick relative in Nashville, and we've got engine trouble. Would you have a toolbox I could borrow?"

"Sure!"

Dinah cocked a brow at him. Lurieen. Edna. Bethesda. He was enjoying himself.

With a friendliness honed by rural self-reliance, the young woman stepped gracefully down the porch steps and headed toward a work shed. "Come on. I'll show you where my husband keeps things. Sam had to go to Nashville to buy some cattle and he won't be back until tomorrow. Sam Chase. And I'm Laurie. Nice to meet you. 'Scuse me if I waddle. I'm due in about two weeks,"

Dinah and Rucker shared a strained look as they followed her. "Aren't you nervous way out here alone, with your baby about to be born?" Dinah asked.

Laurie used the toe of her tennis shoe to nudge a fat red hen out of their way. "Nah. Doctor says I shouldn't have any trouble."

"Aren't you goin' to a hospital?" Rucker asked.

"We're a little short of money for that. Besides, the hospital's two hours from here. My husband was born to this house. It's got sentiment to it."

They went into a small, neatly kept shed. She pointed to a tool chest. "There you go," she told Rucker.

"Thank you, ma'am."

He hoisted the chest and carried it outside. Guileless and curious, Laurie Chase smiled at Dinah. "If y'all want to stay awhile, I'll fix you a meal."

"We can pay," Dinah said quickly. "We don't want to impose."

"Hush. I'm happy to have company. Let's go in the house while your man works on the truck. You can help me cook."

She held out a hand, her eyes honest and sweet. Such innocence, Dinah thought sadly. She took the girl's hand and squeezed it. "That sounds good."

"I warn you, all I talk about is my baby."

Dinah smiled at her. "Me, too."

***

They sat by a window in the Chase's big, homey kitchen and peeled potatoes. Dinah watched Rucker work on the truck's engine. He occasionally took a swig from the cup of coffee she'd taken out to him.

"That's a good-lookin' stud hoss you got there," Laurie observed. "Bet he gave you a good baby."

Dinah bit her lip to keep from smiling at the girl's earthy description of Rucker. "He certainly did."

"Bet you hated to leave her with a sitter. I bet you miss her. Even for a few days. I bet you can't hardly stand it."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. I can see from your face that I upset you. Ouch!"

Dinah looked up quickly. "Are you all right?"

The girl put a hand on her lower back. Her eyes widened. "That's the fourth time that's happened today. Like a weird kind of cramp. I shouldn't have carried so much firewood this morning."

Dinah excused herself and went outside. Rucker bent under the truck's hood, an array of hand tools spread around him. He was immediately aware of her; she could tell from the subtle tightening of his body. His wariness was both physical and emotional.

Ousting wind from a cloud-covered sky ruffled his hair, and his hands were greasy. His face was drawn with fatigue, and beard stubble covered his jaw, but somehow those things only made him more appealing. She knew that the rugged exterior hid depths of tenderness and passion. This was a man who would never let her see him cry over his own pain but who had once cried bitterly over hers.

Dinah stood beside him a second, watching him hungrily, inhaling the not unpleasant scents of oil, mountain air, and masculine sweat.

He finally glanced at her. "I'm hurryin', but it'll be a while."

"We can't leave right away. The girl's going into labor."

Rucker whacked his head on the truck's hood as he straightened up. "What?"

"I think she's going into labor. So don't hurry to fix the truck."

He gazed at her with a mixture of bewilderment and something else, something that made her chest swell with hope. "Rucker, I'm still the person who moves turtles out of the road so they won't get run over. I haven't become an ogre."

"You look exhausted. You gonna take on a stranger's problems, too?"

"Just this one's." Dinah gestured vaguely and glanced away, frowning. "If she's realty going into labor . . . well. It's no fun to give birth alone."

"Were you alone?" he asked grimly, and his expression told her that the thought upset him.

"Basically, yes."

"Where . . . no. You can't tell me. I won't even bother to ask."

She nodded and faced him stoically, her heart twisting as she remembered how much she had needed him. "It's no fun," Dinah repeated.

"What's your schedule? Have we got time to stay and help?" he asked. His tone was softer, and there was grudging admiration in his eyes.

"Yes."

"Okay, then. It's gonna take me all afternoon to fix the truck, anyway." He paused, studying her. "Didn't anybody tell you that lady spies are supposed to be wicked and heartless? Don't you watch the movies?"

Dinah smiled wryly and nodded. She hugged herself against the cool wind and the shivering urge to lean forward and kiss him. "They're not supposed to love their husbands, either."

He flinched and started to lift his hands toward her. Dinah urged him with her gaze. His restraint was almost palpable, a force that conflicted with every beautiful memory she saw replayed in his eyes. After a tense second, the warmth faded from them. He lowered his hands wearily. "Spies can still love their husbands?"

"Yes."

"But then leave them without lookin' back? That takes pure meanness."

She felt his rejection as if he'd shoved her physically. "I looked back," she whispered. "Every step of the way." Dinah turned from the searing disbelief in his eyes and numbly went to the house.

***

A grandfather clock ticked in one corner of the Chase living room and fading afternoon light made the room shadowy. Good smells drifted from the stove in the kitchen. Laurie's monopoly on the conversation suited Dinah.

The girl rocked next to her, stroking a big orange cat that purred in her lap. Dinah let her own rocking chair remain still.

"Do you know who your husband reminds me of?" Laurle asked abruptly. 'That writer. Rucker McClure."

Dinah jumped. She gathered her wits quickly and replied, "We've heard that before. He does look a little like him."

"I've got all his books. Walt, I'll show you."

Dinah straightened fearfully, searching her memory as the girl hoisted herself from the rocker and went to a nearby bookcase. How much did Rucker's publicity photograph resemble him? Laurie withdrew a slender hardback.

"This is the last one he wrote. It's my favorite.
Hot Grits and Honeysuckle
. About bein' married. It's got a lot of funny stuff about marriage in it, but you can tell that he realty loves his wife."

The girl handed the open book to her and pointed at a photograph on the inside cover flap. "He's older lookin' than your husband and a little heavier. Plus he wears glasses. Look at that tailored jacket. Bet that tie's made of silk. He's a slick-lookin' devil. Not like your husband. I mean, that's a compliment."

Dinah sighed with relief and tried to smile. "I understand." Thankfully, she'd encouraged Rucker to dress up for the photograph. The glasses, which he used only for reading, were a last-minute addition. "Now I look like a man who likes poetry Instead of
Sports Illustrated
," he'd grumbled.

"Go ahead and read some. I'll check on supper." Laurte told her.

As she left the room, Dinah lovingly smoothed a hand over Rucker's book. When she'd first met him, he wanted to write about her, but she was distrustful and frightened. Her past contained secrets that he might expose. It had taken a long time for her to understand that Rucker wanted to erase the past and give her a future.

Now she had to do the same, for him.

"Bethesda?"

She glanced around. "Hmmm?" Laurle Chase stood in the kitchen door, clutching the frame.

"My water broke."

***

Rucker rarely looked clumsy or ill at ease, regardless of the situation. "I feel about as graceful as a rhinoceros on a bicycle," he muttered tensely, as he bumped furniture and caught his boot toe on a braided rug.

"Relax,
Abe
. Everything's under control. Just put that floor lamp close to the bed." Dinah looked down at Laurie and patted her hand. "So the doctor says you have a wide pelvis. Good. Me, too. And I didn't have any trouble."