Home Before Dark (18 page)

In her travels, Jessie had seen wonders beyond imagining, had gone to places so exotic no one had ever heard of them, yet only here, in the heart of Texas, did she actually feel the landscape. It was woven into her heart and soul, as much a part of her as her mother's wanderlust and her father's poor judgment. There was really only one word to describe what she felt as she looked down at all the complicated magnificence fifteen hundred feet below—home.

“So what about you? Do you do this often?” Dusty's voice broke in on her thoughts.

“I've been known to. I once toured Luxor in a biplane. Nice ruins, but I couldn't get a comb through my hair for a week.”

“I don't mean the flying.”

She knew exactly what he meant, but she asked anyway, “Then what do you mean?”

“Having sex on the first date. Do you do that often?”

“Who says I'm going to—”

He ran the flat of his hand over her thigh in an indecent, intimate caress that should have offended her, but didn't. “I say.”

 

“The plane! The plane!”

Jessie couldn't hear her three nephews, of course, but as they ran hell-for-leather down to the dock, she imagined their ecstatic Tatu-like cries as they watched the green-and-white floatplane drifting toward shore. The bluetick galloped along with them, no doubt baying loudly, though Jessie couldn't hear that, either. As the plane taxied to the dock, she shut her eyes briefly and tried to imagine not being able to see them. How would she know they were there if she couldn't see them?

Then Dusty cut the engine, and instantly, the hound's baying and the boys' shouts of excitement rang across the water. She could picture them jumping up and down as they waited for the plane to approach.

“Am I that boring?” he asked with a chuckle in his voice. “I've put you to sleep?”

She opened her eyes, angling her head to see him past a shadow she didn't want to think about. “I demand a high level of entertainment.”

Cocky as a high school quarterback, he said, “Then you came to the right place.” Climbing out onto the pontoon, he expertly moored the plane, closely watched by a rapt audience. Jessie was grateful for his steadying hand as she disembarked and made it high and dry onto the dock.

“Jessieee!”
Scottie leaped at her, grabbing her leg. His little torso was encased in a high-tech life vest, which Luz made him wear if he was going anywhere near the lake.

“So this is Dusty,” she said, and told him each boy's name and age. “He took me on a sightseeing tour today. We stopped for lunch at a barbecue place on Lake Travis.”

She might as well have spoken in Maori for all the attention they paid her. The boys swarmed the plane, fascinated, while Dusty showed them around and Beaver growled and sniffed at the alien craft. The afternoon warmth had given way to the cool breath of early evening, and she tilted her face to the sky. The boys' voices seemed to fade into the background as she focused on the soughing chime of the wind through the trees, the plaintive call of a loon going to roost.

After a while, Luz came down to send the boys in to wash for supper. “You're staying, of course,” she said the moment Jessie introduced her to Dusty.

He gave her the once-over. “Yeah?”

“My sister, Luz,” Jessie said. “She's always been bossy.”

“I like that in a woman.”

“When Mr. Garza called to say you'd gone flying, I invited him and your daughter, too,” Luz said, and Jessie wondered if she only imagined the heightening mist of color in her sister's face. “I've been wanting to meet you—Ian loves flying with you. We're having vegetarian King Ranch Chicken.” She seemed to see no contradiction there.

Dusty looked from Jessie to Luz and back again. “Damn, life is good.”

 

Supper was a noisy, messy affair that underscored Dusty's conviction that not only was life good, but it was worth living. Luz and Ian Benning presided over three exuberant boys who went nuts for Amber, falling all over each other to make
her giggle at their antics. The family resemblance was strong in this handsome bunch. The teenaged daughter in particular bore a startling likeness to both her aunt and her mother, though she had Ian Benning's thoughtful mouth. Lila was quiet and maybe even sullen, but Dusty figured that was to be expected, given the ordeal she'd survived. But even she cracked a smile when Amber, overwhelmed by all the attention, simply reached out with both hands and tried to hug the very air itself.

Arnufo caught Ian's eye across the table and raised his longneck bottle of beer. “You are surrounded by blessings, amigo,” he said, his words all but drowned out by the chattering of the children.

“Don't I know it.” Ian took a sip of his Shiner. Then he frowned down at his plate. “Except maybe this casserole,” he added, adding a forkful of jalapeno slices from a jar. “It definitely needs something.”

“Maybe it needs a more grateful husband to eat it,” Luz said.

Dusty had liked Luz instantly. She was the sort of woman you wanted to view from different angles. In many ways, she seemed like a typical busy, even harried, wife and mother, but he sensed something more there, beneath the surface. If Ian Benning knew what was good for him, he'd never overlook that.

“It's delicious,” Jessie said. “Isn't it, Lila?”

The girl had been gazing idly out the window, silent worries hovering in her green eyes. “Hmm? Oh, yeah.” She pushed the food around on her plate.

“I stopped by your school today,” Luz said. “Your teachers said not to worry about homework. Your math teacher gave me a list of assignments, but said to take your time.”

“Okay. Thanks. I've decided to go to school tomorrow,
anyway.” She and her mother regarded each other with a quiet tension that seemed to hum audibly between them.

Then Amber, who was perched in a booster seat, reached over and clamped a dimpled hand on Luz's arm. “Mah,” she said.

A bittersweet ache rose in Dusty's chest, even though he knew it was a random syllable. Beside him, Jessie tensed, and he slipped a hand under the table to rest it easily on her thigh. She tensed even tighter, but didn't bat his hand away. It was damned good to feel the shape of a woman's thigh beneath his hand, to feel her shoulder brushing against his at the crowded table, to inhale and catch the scent of her hair. There was nothing in the world like the smell of a woman's hair.

It was hard to believe he hadn't known her forever. He felt completely at ease with her, yet at the same time, she excited the hell out of him. There was a remarkable simplicity and clarity about what he felt for Jessie Ryder, what he wanted from her. Everything.

Jessie felt unaccountably wistful as Dusty thanked Luz for dinner and said goodbye to Ian and the children. This day had been filled with unexpected gifts and unanticipated emotions. Each child around the dinner table represented an age she had missed with her daughter. She had missed the flower-faced Amber stage, the unquestioning acceptance of Scottie, the shy inquisitiveness of Owen, the coltish awkwardness of Wyatt.

And then there was Dusty. The last thing she needed right now was this jolt of yearning she felt for a strong, sad man who had endured so much. Perhaps it was a good thing that he was leaving. He had to take off before nightfall in order to get the Cessna docked at his place. Even Lila showed some color in her cheeks when he told her how sorry he was about the accident and how glad he was that she was okay. She smiled a little as she offered a subdued word of appreciation.

“See you later,” he said in a low, intimate aside to Jessie.

She walked outside with him, Arnufo and Amber, taking the baby around to the passenger side of the pickup truck to put her into her car seat. Amber felt sturdy, a firm lump of
humanity. Although Jessie carried the child on her hip, the toddler held herself at a decorous distance, pushing back with her hands. Her solemn expression and the way her gaze clung to Arnufo hinted at a low-grade but as yet unvoiced distress. She was waiting, giving Jessie the benefit of the doubt.

“Don't worry,” Arnufo said, sitting patiently in the driver's seat. “She is starting to like you. I can tell.”

“I like her, too. She's a good baby.”

The older man smiled. “All babies are good.”

I wouldn't know.
Jessie felt it again, the impact of what she'd done all those years ago. Dear God, what had she given up? The right to gaze into a face like this, to dream of a future for someone whose future was in her hands.

She studied Amber a moment longer as she grappled with the mystifying web of buckles and bumpers that made up the car seat. The complicated potential in that little face both intimidated and excited her. When she considered the miraculous way this child had been born, waves of wonder overcame her. “I'm glad I got to do the pictures.”

“She is the gift he received. A miracle,” Arnufo said. “I will always believe that.”

“Hell of a sacrifice,” she said.

“Hell of a gift,” he said with a wink. “Listen. God takes things from us. Precious things. We do not know why. It is not for us to question. Sometimes the reward seems too small for a sacrifice so great. Still we go on. What choice do we have but to go on?”

Jessie brushed her fingers over Amber's white-blond fluff. “You're really something, Miss Amber.”

“Yah.”

Stepping back, Jessie made certain all fingers and toes were safely inside before shutting the door.

Down at the dock, her nephews and the dog were screech
ing and howling in wonder as the plane taxied out and took off. Shot through by sunlight, the droplets of water off the pontoons made a trail as hard and bright as yellow diamonds, showering in its wake.

“Yes!” the boys shouted, giving each other high-fives and leaping around in some sort of tribal ritual. Even Ian joined in, six feet of pure goofiness.

Jessie returned to the house and encountered Lila on the porch. “So what do you think of your neighbor?”

“Mom says he's already falling for you. I think she's right.”

“You and my sister are hopeless romantics, then.”

“My mom?” A humorless laugh burst from her. “No way. When she says some hot guy is hitting on you, she means business.”

“He's hot?”

Lila nodded.

Jessie fanned her face. “So it's not just me.”

“Mom says all the hot guys were always after you. Were they?”

Jessie looked away, remembering. “Maybe that's how it looked to Luz. I never really thought about it.” The sun had sunk below the line of hills and Dusty was taxiing to his dock. “I suffered through some really bad dates, but I had this irrational horror of being without a guy. Dumb, huh?”

Ian came walking up to the house, draped in boys. Scottie rode his shoulders, his knees around Ian's head in a wrestling hold. Owen was on his back while Wyatt clung to his leg, riding Ian's foot like a surfboard.

“What's dumb?” Wyatt asked.

“Boys,” Lila said.

“Are not.”

“Are so.”

“Are—”

“Beam us up, Scottie,” Ian said, his signal for him to open the door. Ducking beneath the lintel, he dragged himself and the boys inside before the argument escalated.

Jessie saw the way Lila watched them, and her heart lurched. “Your dad and brothers are really something, aren't they?”

Lila sat down on the porch swing, hugging one leg up to her chest while the other leg dangled, bare foot brushing the floor. “Something. I'm not sure what.”

Jessie wasn't certain how she knew, but Lila's yearning to belong was a palpable thing. “Is it hard, being the only girl?” she asked.

“It's not like I have a choice.” She brushed at her cheek, a swift, furtive movement. “They all—they're always having such a good time together. He's never like that with me. After what happened, I know he never will be.”

“Some things are simply not reversible. You're old enough to know that. But other things, well, they can be fixed.”

“Whatever. It's dark already. I'd better get going.” She stood up, staggered a little and grasped the chain of the porch swing.

“Are you all right, love?”

“I should get to bed early. School tomorrow.”

Jessie kissed her temple, savoring the brief contact. After Lila went upstairs, Jessie straightened the downstairs, accompanied by the busy
swish
of the dishwasher. She could hear a car, but saw no one, so she turned her attention to wiping down the counters. Thumps and outbursts came from upstairs as Luz and Ian got their children ready for bed.

“'Night, everybody,” she called from the foot of the stairs. “I'm heading over to my place.”

“See you in the morning,” called Luz.

“I'm taking the rest of the Merlot,” Jessie said, pushing the cork into the bottle she and Luz had opened at dinner.

“It's all yours,” Luz yelled. Then her tone changed. “Owen Earl Benning, you take that toad outside this minute.”

Jessie walked out with her nephew, lingering as he whispered something into his cupped hands, then squatted down while something hopped away in a rustle of leaves.

“What did you whisper?” Jessie asked.

“I told him it wasn't personal. Mom hates critters. You should have heard her when I brought in the rat snake.”

Jessie leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Do me a favor. No more snakes indoors.”

“'Kay.” Wiping his hands on his pajama bottoms, he went inside.

The strong smell of roses reached her, making Jessie's skin prickle. She wondered…could it be? She went to the far corner of the porch to see if Luz's old rosebush still grew there. She'd tended it since before memory began, declaring it the bush that wouldn't die. Even in the dead of winter when the bitter winds of blue northers ripped across the state, the old rose always clung by the porch. It might surrender a leaf or two, but never its whole self.

And sure enough, it had endured. Peering through the night shadows, she saw the clusters of cream-colored blooms nodding in the chill breeze. This late in the year, the flowers were nothing special, but their perfume was a cloud of pure heaven. Reaching out, Jessie picked one to take over to her cabin.

As she headed off down the wooded path, she realized she was still afraid of the dark. Her heart pounding, she focused on the glimmer of light from the cabin's porch. It was only one tiny point of light, yet it was enough to see her safely through the woods.

She shut her eyes to make the light disappear. Almost instantly, she stumbled and fell to her knees. Somehow, she
managed to keep the wine bottle from breaking, but the impact jarred her teeth together and scraped the tender flesh of her knees.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered. “Bloody goddamn hell.” Picking herself up, she made her way to the cabin, focused on the light and forced herself to think of other things. She felt frustrated, empty, dissatisfied with the conversation she'd had with Lila. Jessie wasn't sure what she'd been expecting—that they'd magically be best friends—but the fact was, they were strangers bound by blood and maybe a couple of mysterious flashes of recognition. Lila was almost eerily similar to Jessie at that age. Jessie used to sneak out at night and go driving around, or simply walk down to the dock and smoke pot, sometimes by herself, until Luz invariably awakened and made her come inside. What did they used to talk about? What made her feel better?

Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, Jessie pushed through the dark tunnel of the woods, heading toward the light. She knew she'd stay up too late, too wired from her day to relax. Who wouldn't be, after the way she'd spent the day? Yet still she felt frustrated, empty. Anxious about her plans for the future.

An ominous shape detached itself from the shadows and moved swiftly toward her. Jessie sucked in her breath to scream, but before she made a sound, he laughed at her.

“You weren't planning on drinking alone, were you?”

“Matlock. You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I figured you'd be expecting me.”

“Why would you figure that?”

“I said I'd see you later. It's later.” He gently pried the wine bottle from her grip and held the door open for her.

“What the devil are you doing?”

“I'm going to have a glass of wine with my new woman.”

She couldn't help it; she laughed. “No, you're not. You're going home. I am not your ‘woman,' new or otherwise. I didn't invite you here.”

“Sure you did.”

An incredulous laugh burst from her. “You really are something, Mr. Matlock.”

“So are you.” Taking the single rose from her hand, he did a quick scan of the cabin. “Nice,” he said, “but it's stuffy in here.” He stuck the rose in a glass of water, adjusted the screened windows to let in the night air, then found a pair of wineglasses and poured. “I want you to know, this is not some ritual seduction to prove I'm ready to start dating again.”

Actually, ritual seduction didn't sound half bad. “Then what is it?”

He handed her a glass of wine and touched the rim of his to the rim of hers. “A beginning. And this is going to be so good.” His stare never strayed from her face as he sipped his wine.

A beat of panic struck Jessie. “What do you mean, this?”

“I mean us.” He grinned, that slow and sexy spread of his lips that made her forget the whole world. Without warning, he put his hand behind her neck, pulled her toward him, settled his lips firmly over hers. And despite her vast, sometimes regrettable experience, Jessie had never been kissed like this before. This kiss was direct, aggressive, openmouthed. A wicked flutter of his tongue imparted a dizzying suggestion of sex, but only a hint.

How could all that happen in a kiss lasting no longer than three heartbeats? Yet even before her thoughts caught up with the rush of sensation, she knew exactly what he intended. She could taste it on his lips, feel it in the firm insistence of his embrace. Just when she relaxed, all too willing to succumb, he pulled back.

“So anyway. That's pretty much what I have in mind.”

She felt obliged to assert herself. She could safely say that, even though she was no shrinking violet in the sexual fling department, he had taught her something new with his kiss. She had a serious case of dry-mouth but she spoke anyway. “What about what I have in mind? Or doesn't that matter?”

He laughed and touched her under the chin, reminding her that her mouth was hanging open. “Honey, I know exactly what you have in mind. And believe me, it matters.”

And then he kissed her. It was like the previous one, which up until now had been a kiss she thought she'd dream about forever. This was better—a personal best. His lips were tender and sweet with wine, and insistent with unspoken promises. His intensity held her spellbound. She was gripped by the insatiable hunger that had possessed her years before and had set her off to wander the world. But everything was different now. This need for him was so much deeper and therefore so much sadder. And she wanted him badly enough not to care what morning brought.

Still, honor demanded that she warn him. “I can't be…what you want me to be.”

“What do you reckon I want, Jessie?”

“Someone who knows how to stay in one place, who can seriously be part of your life.”

“We
are
serious.”

“We are?”

“We agreed to have sex. I intend to take that seriously.”

He grinned again and she melted some more. She felt as though they were speeding through the rites of courtship, and the greedy, needful part of her was glad, because she didn't have time to take this slowly. She sensed the wanting in him and it matched the wanting in her.

She felt a stirring inside, a softening. The air felt thick and alive, pulsing with his next words even before he spoke them.

“It hasn't been easy and it sure as hell hasn't been pleasant. But in the past couple of years, I've discovered that I'm just a guy who fell in love and had a great marriage and then lost it. But I'm going to live again.” He crossed the room in two strides and held out his hand to her. “And I'm going to love again, maybe even better than I did the first time around.”

“Whoa, slow down. This is rebound stuff.”

“Nope. Something happened when I met you. I think you felt it, too.”

She bit her lip, unable to contradict him. This was insane, but he was incredible. Simply being with him gave her a glimpse of a different world, a world of precious, quiet safety.