Somewhere Along the Way (16 page)

He didn’t bother to nod, guessing they both knew he wouldn’t follow her order.

She offered her hand. “I was wrong. I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mr. Leary. You saved a girl’s life by acting as fast as you did. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary.” He took her hand. “She’s my friend.”

Alex’s grip was strong. “I hope you’ll count me among your friends after tonight.”

He finally smiled. “I’ll do that.”

Without another word, he walked out of the office and found Elizabeth waiting in her tiny little sports car.

Gabe leaned against her door when she rolled down the window. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t be safer walking.”

“Get in,” she said. “It’s only a few blocks. How many light poles can I hit between here and there?”

Gabe circled the car and climbed in, favoring his bad leg as he crammed it into the car. She took off before he closed the door, sliding from one side of the street to the other.

Giggling, she said, “I’ve never gone down to lockup and gotten a client out before. I feel like a real lawyer.”

“You didn’t get me out. I didn’t do anything. They just released me.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m the best lawyer. Don’t forget, you used your one call to phone me tonight.”

Gabe laughed. “You’re the only lawyer I know. Hell, now your mom’s house is the only number I know.”

Liz slid into the driveway of the Winter’s Inn Bed-and-Breakfast.

Gabe leaned low to stare up at the old two-story mansion. “You’ve got to be kidding. You booked me a room here?”

She ignored him as she cut the engine, climbed from the car, and headed toward the porch. He had no choice but to follow.

Ten minutes later, he’d stripped off his muddy clothes and stepped into a hot shower, ignoring the funny little bottles lined up along every surface in the bathroom and the hand towels twisted to resemble monkeys hanging from the racks. The shower felt great. He hadn’t realized how bone cold he’d been. He washed his hair and beard, then stood letting the steamy downpour ease his leg pain for a while before turning off the water. He took a deep breath and slid the shower door open in a now-foggy room.

Martha Q stood at the door, her arms loaded down with clothes.

Gabe grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him. He wasn’t shy, and from the way she looked at him, she wasn’t embarrassed about interrupting either.

“I brought you some clothes. You should find something that will fit. I liked my husbands in all different sizes, kept me from getting them mixed up.” She giggled. “There’s pajamas on your bed if you sleep in them.”

“I don’t,” he said as he took the clothes from her. “You always walk in on your guests?”

“I didn’t figure you’d mind. You didn’t lock the door.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said as he watched her waddle out.

“When you’re decent,” she yelled, “I’ve got sandwiches in the kitchen for you and Liz.”

“I’ll be right down.” He closed the door, locked it, and dried off, still smiling at the woman. He might not be modest, but she was certainly bold. He picked out a white T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans that almost fit him. The crazy lady had thought of socks, but forgot underwear. She’d guessed his size well, but after all, the old girl had taken a full look at him. He wasn’t sure Elizabeth would have recommended the place if she knew how nuts Martha Q was.

When he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, Elizabeth looked up at him and blushed. “Martha Q told me she saw your scar.” Liz giggled. “Along with everything else. She said you’re one fine-looking man.”

“Where
is
the old witch?” he mumbled.

“Gone to bed, but she left us food.” She moved away from the table to reveal a feast of sweets, sandwiches, and fruit.

Gabe headed straight to Liz and pulled her against him. “I’m hungry for the taste of something else first, if you’ve no objection.” His lips brushed hers lightly, waiting for an invitation. “Think you could forget I’m your client long enough to kiss me?” The tip of his tongue slid along her upper lip.

She made a little squeal of surprise before leaning into him. He tasted strawberries on her tongue and pulled away. “Food,” he whispered, “then more of you.”

They sat at the tiny kitchen table and began to eat. Their chairs were turned at an angle to each other, and he didn’t miss the way their legs brushed as they filled their plates.

He’d take a bite of something, then offer her one. She concentrated on the bowl of strawberries, dipping each in powdered sugar before eating. She’d start to offer him a bite, then pull it away just before he tasted it and pop the treat into her mouth. The third time she did it, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, kissing her as he tasted the fruit.

When he finished, she had powdered sugar outlining her lips.

“You’re the best-tasting lawyer I’ve ever had,” he teased.

“You tasted a lot, have you?” She giggled.

“No, they’re not usually on the menu.” He dipped a strawberry and fed it to her.

The night seemed enchanted. For once, she said she didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to unwind from a dinner at her mother’s she called an inquisition. Gabe felt like he’d already done more talking in one night than he usually did in a month. Memories threatened to haunt him, and the only cure seemed to be staying close to Elizabeth tonight.

They were in a strange house in a storm that seemed to block all the world out. They cleaned up the kitchen, refilled their wineglasses, and moved around the downstairs looking at all the treasures Martha Q had collected over her life.

Finally, they ended up on the couch in what Martha Q called the parlor. Gabe lit a fire in the old stone fireplace, and Elizabeth curled up next to him so they could share a quilt. She said the fire reminded her of Christmases at her family’s ranch where she grew up.

He listened, only needing to ask a question now and then to keep her talking. She told him of her childhood and her brother and sister. She told him of a life that sounded like a fairy tale compared to his childhood only a few miles away. Except for her father dying, Elizabeth Matheson sounded like a child who got everything she wanted. Hell, Gabe thought, she even got a pony. She had a mother who was a real artist and an older brother and sister to watch over her and enough of her own money by the time she got out of high school to buy a sports car.

He had trouble picturing her life, but it was nice to listen. Finally, she slowed and nestled closer for warmth. He wrapped his arm around her and watched her fall asleep, thinking how could something so beautiful be so close to him.

Watching out the window, he thought he saw a blue Mustang rolling slowly down the icy street, but with the falling snow, he couldn’t be sure. Any car out tonight would be in the gutter in no time.

Instinct, bred in years of training, told him seeing the Mustang once parked by Liz’s office was nothing, but twice might mean someone was watching him. Gabe pushed the idea aside. No one was watching him. He was simply being paranoid.

In the still night air, he heard the whisper of the clock in the tower on the town square chime the hour. No one noticed the clock during the day, but at night it seemed a lonely sound drifting in the air, stealing silence.

Wrapped in one another and a few handmade quilts, he listened to their breath keep time and finally fell asleep.

For tonight . . . for this one night . . . he wasn’t alone.

THURSDAY, 9:00 P.M.
FEBRUARY 7, 2008
HARMONY HOSPITAL

REAGAN HEARD THE DOOR CREAK OPEN AND WAITED FOR one of the nurses to start bothering her. In the twenty-four hours she’d been in the hospital, she swore she’d been mothered a hundred times. Some checked on her head wound; others looked at the top of her leg, now in a cast; other nurses took her temperature and blood pressure; and a few just wanted her blood, as if she hadn’t lost enough.

When they came in, they always seemed to want to talk, not noticing that she’d been trying to sleep. “How do you feel? Are you dizzy? Sick at your stomach? Hungry?” When they finished with the questions, they usually became weathermen. “It’s really snowing. Worst blizzard we’ve had in years.”

Every time they woke her and left, Reagan reached for her cell phone and called her uncle. She could almost see him sitting in the kitchen waiting for his hourly call. She’d tell him everything was fine and he didn’t need to try to come and see her. Then Jeremiah would give her a weather report and hang up.

Reagan opened one eye. The door had sounded someone’s coming, but no one had touched or poked her.

It took her a few seconds to make him out in the shadows of the room. Tall, thin, and dressed for Alaska in winter. Only his smiling brown eyes gave him away.

“Hi, Preacher,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

Noah moved closer, tugging off his ski hat and gloves. His hair flew in every direction. If possible, the ski hat had done more damage than the cowboy hat he usually wore. “I heard about you from my sister. Sheriffs know everything, but they’re bossy. She made me swear I wouldn’t try to get my pickup out on these roads before she told me you were in the hospital. I guess she knew I’d be headed this way.”

Reagan smiled. “So how’d you get here?”

“I caught a ride on the truck plowing the streets. He said it didn’t matter which way he went, snow would cover what he’d done in a half hour, anyway.” Noah unzipped his jacket. “They called off school today and probably tomorrow.”

“Sorry to hear,” she lied. Most days she just survived school until she could go home. Everyone else her age tried to think of where they could go, but for Reagan, home always seemed the right place. She liked baking in the kitchen and rummaging through rooms in the old house. She even liked doing her homework on an old table Jeremiah had said was brought to Harmony in a covered wagon. As near as she could tell, no Truman had tossed anything in three generations.

Noah sat down on the edge of her bed. “Broke your leg, did you?”

“No,” she answered. “They just don’t want me dancing around with this head wound so they wrapped up my leg.”

Noah laughed. “Pretty dumb question, I guess. How about telling me what you were doing out back of the diner in an ice storm after dark?”

“You sound like a cop.” She frowned.

“Maybe I will be someday. Who knows, it’s in my blood. My brother being a highway patrolman and now my sister the sheriff. Maybe, after I’m all broken up in the rodeo, I’ll apply to the Texas Rangers.”

“You’d really want that?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I think I want to make the big money and come right back here to ranch. I’ll move out on the land, redo the old house so more than rats can live in it, and just watch my horses run.”

“You’ll never get rich that way.”

“I know, but it sounds like every day would be an adventure.”

“I wish I had a plan.” She stared out at the snowy night. “I want to stay here, but my uncle insists on college. I’m hoping he’ll compromise and let me take classes online. I have this fear that if I ever leave here I might not be able to find my way back.”

Noah leaned forward and rested his head on the pillow next to her. “Rea, you got to consider the possibility that you don’t have enough brains left for college. You probably lost what little you had in the gully last night.”

She raised her arm to hit him, but the IV tubes got in the way.

They both laughed. Deep down, no matter what happened or how different their lives turned out, they both knew that they were friends. Real friends. Deep-down, blood-brother kind of friends.

He brushed his hand over hers. “If either of us ever does go away and get lost, we should promise each other that we’ll come after whichever one is lost and bring them back. I have this feeling that sometimes people leave and get into big cities and forget they’re lost. The bright lights trick them or something.”

Reagan wanted to laugh, but deep down she decided that he might be right.

He settled beside her, lifting his arm as she cuddled against his shoulder. “They’ll kick me out of here soon, Rea, but I’ll stay with you as long as they’ll let me. When I was hurt once, you stayed near me and I’d like to return the favor.”

She closed her eyes. “Fair enough.”

Like she knew he would, he talked about his dreams. Noah McAllen was different from any eighteen-year-old in town. He had his life all planned out, and Reagan envied him.

Smiling, she listened. They hadn’t just talked in a long time. Lately, when she called him he seemed to have a list of things to tell her, but nothing he just wanted to talk about.

She was almost asleep when the duty nurse came in to tell him he’d have to go. Reagan remained still, hoping the nurse would let him stay a minute more, but Noah pulled away.

When he was gone and the room silent once more, she felt the cold all the way to the bone even though reason told her the room temperature hadn’t changed.

For a strange reason, she felt something was ending. She wanted to call him back and make him promise they’d always be friends, forever and ever and ever.