The Messenger: A Novel (6 page)

T
he biggest, blackest dog she had ever seen stood inches from her face. Its eyes seemed to glow, its fangs glistened. Its ears were pitched forward, and it was staring at her.

She swallowed hard and held up a commanding—if shaking—hand. “No!”

It came out much weaker than she liked.

The dog ignored her, moving around her to the opposite side of Tyler. It began to lean its face toward his. It made a sound like a sigh.

“Stay away from him!” she shouted.

The dog’s head lifted, then cocked to one side.

She heard a low moan.

Startled, she looked down at Tyler’s face. He was still very pale, but something had changed—his skin was no longer the ashen color it had been. She leaned closer. He was breathing.

“Tyler!”

He moaned again.

This time, she let the tears fall.

She watched him carefully as she rested a moment, catching her breath, regaining her composure. The dog made her uneasy, but it had moved a little farther away from them now. Its nose was lifted, as if scenting something down the dirt road.

As she noticed this, it occurred to her again that they might not have seen the last of the men from the pickup truck.

“Tyler!”

He half-opened his eyes, then closed them again.

“Tyler, we have to get out of here. Those men might come back. Do you know who they were?”

She doubted that he had heard or understood her. But at least his eyes opened again. He stared at her a moment, frowning. He looked around him. When he saw the dog, he made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“Can you move?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, but he rolled to his side. She stood, and felt the needles of returning circulation in her feet. She didn’t know how long she had been kneeling beside him. She picked up the flashlight and turned it off. The moon had risen, a nearly full moon, bright enough to see nearby objects. She pocketed the flashlight and her cell phone. Well, big pockets were good for something, weren’t they?

She watched him carefully as she stood beside him. After what seemed like a long time, Tyler raised a hand.

“Yes?” she asked.

He made another sound that was not quite a laugh. “Hell and the devil—I’m not in a schoolroom, am I? Help me to stand up…please.”

Embarrassed, she took hold of his hand, but his grasp was weak, and she didn’t think she had enough strength to help him up. The dog came back to them, circled them, and barked. It scared some last reserve of adrenaline into her, and she pulled Tyler to his feet. Tyler swayed and grabbed hold of her in a clumsy embrace.

“Wait,” he said, leaning heavily on her.

She did her best to keep her balance. The dog kept circling them, its tail wagging now.

Tyler was taking in odd, shallow breaths, as if breathing was painful.

“Are your ribs broken?” she asked.

He shook his head, a no.

“How can you be sure?”

“We have to get out of here,” he said, ignoring her question, but he spoke in the manner of a person who is short of breath, or who dares not take a deep breath.

“Will they be coming back?”

“Undoubtedly. Your car—?”

“Wrecked—not drivable, I’m afraid.”

For another long minute he simply stood there, his arm across her shoulders. “Too heavy?” he asked, starting to straighten. “Should have asked—were you injured?”

“No, no—just relax. I’m fine. I only wonder—maybe you should lie down just a little longer?”

“I’ll be all right.”

“You might have a concussion,” she said. “You were kicked in the head.”

“Hmm…” He reached up and touched his lips, which she could see were swollen.

“CPR,” she said.

He looked at her own swollen lips. “Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and looked away.

“Let’s walk to my place.”

“You do have a concussion. We can’t walk to Los Angeles.”

“No—my home here. It’s not far.” He paused, caught his breath. “On the other side of the cemetery.”

“Cemetery!”

She looked in the direction he pointed—she now saw that the dilapidated picket fence surrounded a few weatherworn gravestones. Near a cluster of trees, she could just make out the edge of a low building.

“My van is there,” he said. “Do you think you could drive it?”

“Is it an automatic?”

“Yes.” He didn’t smile as he said it, but she thought she detected amusement.

“Oh. Then yes, I can drive it.”

“Do you need to get…any belongings from your car?”

“My purse is in it,” she said. “That’s all I need from it now.”

“I’ll wait here. Get your purse…and anything that has your address…or name on it…set out flares if you have them.”

“Maybe it would be smarter to call the police from your place. And ask them to send an ambulance and a tow truck or two.”

“Don’t have a phone here.” At her look of surprise, he added, “It’s something of a retreat…No computers, no phone, very low tech.”

Since this speech seemed to exhaust him, she told him not to say anything more, contradicted this immediately by telling him to call out to her if he needed her, and saying that she’d hurry back, hurried off.

“So she believes she’s saved my life,” Tyler said to Shade.

Shade regarded him steadily.

“No, of course I won’t behave as if I’m ungrateful.” He drew a painful breath. His ribs hurt like hell. “It’s going to cause complications, though.”

Shade turned his back, staring off toward the intersection, where Amanda was lighting flares.

“Go ahead and ignore me.”

The dog seemed to take full advantage of this permission.

Amanda came running back toward them, the purse banging at her side. She dropped something—the car registration? She stooped to pick it up, nearly fell over, but clambered back up and kept coming. He wondered if he had ever seen a more ungainly young woman in his life. And yet, he decided, there was some sort of grace there, wasn’t there? A kind of sweet, unconscious freedom in her movements. As he kept watching, he remembered that Ron had once said she was only clumsy when she was nervous or upset. Why wouldn’t she be upset, given what she must have experienced tonight? And, of course, he made her nervous. The thought made him frown.

She saw him, then came to a lurching halt, her eyes widening. Clearly frightened. He made an effort to stop frowning. He felt certain his smile looked like a grimace.

Then he realized she was staring at the dog. “I thought he would run off again,” she said.

Belatedly, he remembered that Ron had told him she was afraid of dogs. “His name is Shade. He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“He’s yours?” She sounded horrified.

“You might say I’m his. He’s a very good dog, very smart.”

She rubbed at a place on her face, near her eyebrow.

Shade approached her, rolled over on his back to expose his belly, and wagged his tail.

Tyler could only stare at the dog in shock. He had never seen Shade do this for anyone but himself.

When she stood frozen in place, Tyler said, “I believe he wants to be friends.”

She bent slowly, hand shaking, and quickly touched the dog’s chest.

Shade waited until she straightened. He stayed low, tongue lolling from a doggy smile, tail still wagging. Looking for all the world like the most obsequious mutt on the planet.

“Does he always roam around at night?” she asked.

“Rarely. He usually stays close to me.”

Shade looked back at him.

“We’d better get going,” Tyler said, and tried taking a few steps.

She rushed to his side, heedless of the dog now. It was easier to walk with her help. He told himself that even when he reached the point when he knew he could manage on his own.

Except to hold the hand of someone who was dying, he had not allowed himself to be in physical contact—even such limited contact—with a woman in years. He told himself that was why he was responding to her so strongly.

A young man’s body, a young man’s thoughts, he told himself bitterly, but kept his arm around her until they reached his front door.

He unlocked the door, and pulled a matchbook from his pocket. He lit the candle near the door, then used this to light an oil lamp. A quick look assured him that the men who had attacked him had not vandalized his home.

“No electricity?” she asked.

“No. Entirely rustic—well, almost.”

“Almost?”

“Indoor plumbing.”

“No use carrying nostalgia too far,” she agreed. She looked about her. He wondered what she made of the simple furnishings. A plain pine table. Four wooden chairs, the number a matter of tradition, since never more than one had been occupied at any given time. A fireplace. Unadorned thick walls. All the color in the room came from one throw rug and the bowls and cups on a simple sideboard. Amanda Clarke was undoubtedly used to far more elegant surroundings.

To his surprise, she smiled and said, “I like it. It’s peaceful.”

“Yes. If you’d like to wash up before we leave, there’s a bathroom just through that first door. Take the candle on the sideboard with you for light.”

She glanced up at him, took both the candle and a large empty bowl from the sideboard, and went into the bathroom.

The taking of the bowl puzzled him, but he had a bigger enigma before him. “Shade,” he whispered, “what in hell was that all about—that business of groveling?”

Shade wagged his tail.

“She’s not the queen of England, you know.”

The tail wagged faster. Someone less familiar with the dog might not have seen what Tyler saw—an unmistakable gleam of amusement in the dog’s eyes.

“Fine, have your joke.”

The dog cocked his head to one side, then lowered it and stepped forward, softly butting up against Tyler’s legs.

Tyler sighed and bent—somewhat painfully—to stroke the soft fur along the dog’s neck. “Of course I’m not angry.”

He heard the water shut off in the bathroom, and soon Amanda emerged, candle extinguished and apparently left behind. She held the bowl carefully with both hands. It was filled nearly to the brim with water. She carried a towel and washcloth over one arm.

He looked at her uneasily, and she said, “Now, after everything else, don’t start being a baby. Sit down, please.”

He obeyed, mostly out of curiosity.

She carefully washed his face, and when in response to her question he told her that he didn’t have any medical supplies here, she used her little first-aid kit to put an antibiotic on his cuts and to bandage one of the deepest. He didn’t have the heart to tell her how unnecessary this was, but when he saw her eyeing some of the smaller cuts, he said, “I heal quickly. No need to bandage the others.”

She looked doubtful, but took him at his word, and went to work on his hands.

He looked at her long, graceful—yes, graceful—neck, the dark strands of her hair falling to either side of her nape. I must be starved for affection, he thought.

“Did I frighten you, earlier this evening?” he asked.

She blushed but kept her head bent over her work. “A little. But mostly—it was—Todd embarrassed me, that’s all.”

“He has two black eyes and a swollen nose. And I’m going to have to replace a few broken bottles of Rebecca’s booze.”

He heard her give a little snort of laughter. “Thanks. But my, um…honor…was hardly worth fighting for.”

“I disagree.”

The blush deepened, she ducked her head a little more, and fell silent.

Definitely too long without human affection, he decided. That must explain why having this young woman brush a warm cloth over his hands, spread his fingers, stroke them slowly and tenderly, was nearly enough to make him want to pull her to the floor with him. He began to feel grateful to the louts who had beat him to the point of not having the strength to do it. Despite his mind’s wild imaginings, his body was tiring quickly, a sure sign that the fever was not far away.

“Thank you,” he said.

She looked up at him. Big brown eyes. Long lashes. She wasn’t hard to read—she was happy.

He shook himself. “I appreciate all you’re doing, but I think we’d
better get back to L.A. To be honest, I’m concerned that they may try something there.”

“Ron!”

Yes, he thought, that’s the way of it. Remind yourself of whose territory you’re poaching.

“I’ve hired security,” he told her. “But I’d like to get within cell phone range and check on him as soon as possible, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yes! Let’s go. Do you need anything from here?”

“No, provided my car keys are still inside my jacket. Judging from the bruises on my side—ah, yes.” He gingerly extracted them from the inside pocket and handed them to her.

She was a little wary when he told her that Shade might want to ride in the passenger seat. “Won’t you be in the passenger seat?”

He could feel the beginnings of the fever, knew that soon he would not be able to hide it from her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep on the way home. I’ve got a bed in the back.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s a good idea. But I still think we need to stop by an emergency room. I’m so afraid—you didn’t see what happened, but it was horrible, and you probably aren’t fully in your senses—”

“Amanda,” he said, and she fell silent. “Amanda, I have to ask for a promise from you. I know I have no right to ask it, but it is extremely important.”

“What is it?”

“No doctors, no hospitals, no police. Other than warning Ron, you tell no one what’s happened.”

There was a long silence. “Why?”

“Are you worried about the car? I’ll replace it. I’ll buy—”

“No. Don’t be silly. You know I can replace it myself. My concern is you, of course.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

She blushed and looked away, but said, “I owe you an apology, for one thing. When I first met you, I was very rude to you.”

“I was rude back. We don’t have time for this now.” He felt his skin growing hot and dry. If they could leave soon, get on the road—if she had to concentrate on driving—if he could manage to be quiet—if, if, if.
He felt his thoughts grow muddled between the fever and the injuries. “If I promise to tell you about this later, will you trust me for now?”