Lock and Key (20 page)

We stopped just past the North Dakota border to get a bite to eat and hit the bathrooms. I got off the bike, took off the helmet, and bent over to stretch out my lower back. The moment I stood up again, Lock’s hand grasped the side of my face and his lips crushed mine.

“What was that for?” I pushed against his chest. My tongue swiped at my lips.

“I think you know, Grace.”

I think he liked having me on the back of his bike.

It had been a very long while since I had ridden such a long distance. Lock made it a smooth experience. He was attuned to his machine, fully concentrating on the road, relaxed but attentive. Wreck had taught his brother well. Lock had achieved that harmony, a oneness with machine and road that I always believed was rooted in a deep, compelling passion for riding, a need in your very soul. That vital feeling of wholeness and freedom swept through me as we rode. It still swirled inside me right now. Of course, the effect had only intensified with that kiss and Lock’s heated glare.

I pushed the helmet into his hands. “I’m going to hit the Ladies’ Room.” I charged through the parking lot on shaky legs.

Two hours or more later we were just over the North Dakota-Montana border.

The traffic was unbelievable. Rigs and semis of all shapes and varieties, most of them ginormous, ruled the roads. The number of passenger cars had quadrupled over the years effectively clogging these small country routes. Oil boom indeed. “Man camps” and RV parks had sprouted up everywhere as temporary housing for the army of oil workers. Unfortunately, there was no sign that housing, eateries, or retail stores had caught up with the obvious demand.

Lock’s GPS directed us to Ray’s house which was in a very trim and tidy neighborhood. I hadn’t wanted to stop and make myself glossy and presentable. I just wanted to get there, see him, say whatever I had to say, and be done with it. Oh, yeah, and convince him to get tested.

If I had to change my clothes and look in the mirror to put on makeup, my messy tangle of nerves, insecurities and emotions about my father would surely set off a riot in my already overtaxed stomach and pounding head. Then I would probably only want to bite Ray’s head off or burst into tears rather than be civil and calm.

Time to get this done.

We got off the bike. I swept my hair back into a ponytail and swiped on some cocoa flavored lip balm. Lock studied me, his arms crossed at his chest. The familiar and comforting fragrance of the waxy stick eased my frazzled nerves just a bit. I took in a deep breath as we made our way up the pebbled walk to the front door.

“You okay?” Lock asked, his hand at my elbow.

“Not really, but it doesn’t make a difference now.”

His dark gaze focused on me. “Grace…”

I stopped. “Thank you for doing this. For bringing me. I… I…”

“Hey, take a minute.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in to his warm chest. The aroma of leather, sweat, metal, and gasoline filled my lungs, and my muscles instantly relaxed.

“You sure you want to do this now? We can come back later tonight or even tomorrow morning?” his deep voice vibrated through his chest and into mine. His fingers pulled through the thick strands of my ponytail and rested on my neck.

“I need to do it now.”

“Alright.” He released me from his embrace. “I’ll be right out here, okay?”

I shook my head. “I’d like you to come inside with me. Could you do that?”

Lock’s eyes softened over me. “Of course.” He leaned over and brushed his lips against my forehead.

My eyes took in the glossy red door with the brass knocker. My finger pressed in on the button with “Hastings” neatly printed over it.

The door swung open.

My own hazel eyes stared back at me from behind a pair of wire-framed glasses. Ray was still trim, tall, but a mustache now covered his top lip. His chestnut hair was now streaked with silver.

Time stood still for a nanosecond. Then it rushed right back through me along with my heartbeat.

“Grace?”

“You still with the club?” Ray’s eyes flicked over Lock. Twice.

“No, I just got back to Meager actually.” I placed my glass of water on its coaster next to Lock’s empty bottle of beer on the large wood coffee table before us. Ray’s house was impressive. No faded curtains or worn rugs here like the ones he had left behind in Meager. No outdated, old fashioned furniture either. Everything in Ray’s living room seemed organized, neat, clean, new.

The three of us sat on a matching sofa and love seat in navy blue twill. A white wood entertainment center filled the center wall and held a large flat screen television. A number of home theatre gadgets and an extensive collection of DVDs lined the shelves. Beige wall-to-wall carpeting was everywhere and heavy navy blue drapes lined the windows sealing out the sun and the neighbors. Five hunting and fishing magazines lay in a neat row on the glass coffee table. A tall chrome-stemmed lamp with a large white shade stood stiffly in the corner. Not one framed photo or personal object was visible. We might as well have been in the waiting room of a doctor’s office.

I cleared my throat and shifted forward on the edge of the sofa. “Actually, I haven’t been home for almost fifteen years now.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to you and your husband,” Ray said.

“Thank you. Ruby told me you came to the hospital.”

“I couldn’t not see for myself if you were okay.”

I held his tense gaze for a moment. “I wish you had stayed. At least until I had come to.”

“Ruby made it clear that I wasn’t welcome. Of course, she had every right to feel that way.” He pursed his lips.

I took another gulp of water. “Look, I didn’t come here to go over old history.” I shot him a look. “I’d like to, believe me, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. I came here because I need your help.”

“My help?”

His eyes crinkled, and he pressed his lips together in a firm line and sat up straighter. “What do you need?” he asked.

His features had tightened, and it had not escaped my notice. The shithead probably thought I came for his money.

“Ruby’s married now. She has a little boy, Jake.” I handed him the small creased photo of the three of them I had ready in my jacket pocket. He studied the photograph.

“Alex is an engineer with a big oil corporation. Ruby’s a drug dependency counselor. Jake’s headed for kindergarten next year.” My throat tightened. I curled my toes in my boots and ground them into the floor.

“Ruby has lung cancer, Dad,” I said. His hazel eyes snapped up at me. “She’s had chemo, but she needs a bone marrow transplant to have a chance. It’s a long shot. A long, long shot, but we need to try. We haven’t found a match yet. I’m not even a match. I should have been, siblings are supposed to be the best match.”

The side of Lock’s formidable thigh pressed into mine, and I was grateful for it. I swallowed hard. “Dad, you’re the only blood relative I know of, so I had to come find you.”

My father’s body went rigid. His tense gaze darted back to the photograph in his hand.

“Ruby?” he asked, his voice small.

“I’d like you to get tested,” I said. “I have the name of a doctor where we can have it done. It’s a blood test, and maybe a swab inside your mouth. Then we see if you’re a match.”

Ray’s jaw slackened, his eyes held mine.

“Um, that’s it,” I said and gulped down more water. The silence simmered in the room.

“Ray?” asked Lock as his hand settled on my knee. The tight pressure of his fingers on my flesh stemmed the panic that steadily rose inside me.

“Can you do this for Ruby?” I asked, my voice thick. “She’s a mom now, Ray. She needs you. Your grandson needs you. Please? This is all we’ve got left.”

Ray’s glassy eyes fell on mine. He nodded his head stiffly.

Lock and I followed Ray in his shiny golden brown Buick Enclave to the doctor’s office that Dr. Braden had contacted for me. As Ray filled out his paperwork, I leaned against the wall of the crowded reception area, with my hand enclosed in Lock’s large, warm one.

“I really hate doctors’ offices, hospitals, all of it,” I said.

“This will all be over in a few, Grace,” he murmured in my hair and squeezed my hand.

The nurse motioned for my father to follow her inside.

“This is just the beginning, Lock, just the freaking beginning.”

“Grace, you’ve got to eat. Eat something, come on.”

I poked at my grilled rib eye and mashed potato with my fork.

“You want something else, maybe?”

I shook my head.

“Swear to God, Grace, I’m going to come over there and feed you myself.

“Geez, okay!”

“Eat, baby.” He leaned over the table on his forearms. “The night is young, and we have to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? Celebrate what?”

“You getting your dad to get tested. No tap dancing, no blowups, no drama. Clean and neat. Done.” He tipped his frosty mug of beer at me and drank.

“That’s what you like, huh? Clean and neat, no drama?” I cut into my juicy steak and chewed on the tender, buttery meat.

“I like to get the job done with minimal fuss, if that’s what you’re asking.” He pushed his empty dish to the side and studied me.

“Can’t argue with that.” I dipped another piece of meat into the small pool of dark steak sauce on my dish and put it in my mouth. I swirled my fork through the creamy mashed potato.

Lock’s legs tangled with mine under the table. I blinked up at him, my mouth full of food.

“You’re feeling the sting now, huh?” he asked. “Seeing Ray and not getting anything out of him except a soggy q-tip and a vial of his blood?”

I swallowed my food. How did he know what I was feeling before I had even the opportunity to digest it, sort it, put a name to it?

Lock pushed out of his side of the table and slid next to me in our booth. “You did good today, Grace. You were amazing. So in control, keeping it focused. You got the job done for your sister, baby,” he murmured in my ear. His warm breath tickled my cheek.

“But now we’re back to waiting again,” I said. I put the forkful of mashed potato in my mouth. “All this waiting and hoping. Ruby and Alex were pleased when I talked to them before, but we all know we’re just at the next level of waiting, with another process to endure, then another.”

“That’s usually the way.”

“It stinks!” I blurted.

“Yeah, it does.” His warm hand wrapped around my neck, and the banging in the pit of my tummy eased. “But that’s the way of it. Of most things, not just medical shit. But what you accomplished today was huge. Huge.” His eyes loomed over me. They were like a balm soothing my jagged nerves. I drank in their languid potion, but then forced myself to return my attention to the mound of buttery mashed potatoes on my plate and ate a bit more.

I arranged my fork and knife on my dish and wiped my mouth with my napkin. I settled back against the firm upholstery. Lock’s spicy leathery scent tingled in my nostrils and filled me with warmth and crazy thoughts.

“Can we drink now?” I asked.

Lock let out a deep laugh. He took my hand, and we got up from our table and moved to the bar.

Lock’s thumb rubbed over the rim of his nearly finished glass of single malt whiskey. I drained my glass, and desperately shoved aside thoughts regarding this evening’s hotel accommodations. We chose a local microbrewery beer for our second round.

“God, I love lime!”

“You love lime?” he asked.

“It’s delicately sour,” I said. “But there’s a hint of sweet all over it pulling you back in, and it’s all fresh and clean. Lemon can be truly sour. Lemon is definitely… yellow, but lime’s unique green is all about the fresh… fresh air, fresh water, but with this terrific twist.”

Lock grinned at me and shook his head.

He’s so cute when he’s all smiley and relaxed.

I squeezed my legs together and pushed up against the bar.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

I let out a laugh and shoved his shoulder. “Come on, say it.”

“What?”

“Come on!” I said.

He leaned in closer to me. “I agree with your assessment of lime.”