Sunrise Crossing (19 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Fulvous-orange warmth

P
ARKER
TALKED
THE
outlaws she seemed to be running with, Tori, Clint and Yancy, into eating their burgers over at Yancy's house. She wanted to see what Tori had been doing. Sometimes talent transferred from one art form to another, and sometimes it didn't. Clint went along with going anywhere except back to the farmhouse, and Yancy seemed to love the idea of showing off his place.

They ate standing around a beautiful hand-carved bar. Parker could see the love Yancy had for the house in every corner of the place. After they stayed long enough to roast marshmallows for dessert, she and Clint dropped Yancy off at the retirement home.

To Parker's surprise, Tori climbed out, too.

Parker had to bite her lip to keep from commenting, but Tori was an adult. If she wanted to spend more time with Yancy, that was up to her. They'd all had a tense night with first the shots and then having to hide Tori from the deputy.

When Parker watched Yancy take her hand as he and Tori ran for the side door of the office, she grinned. Maybe Tori just needed to be held tonight. Parker couldn't help but notice the way he'd looked at Tori all evening. Like she was treasured. Like the little artist was the most important person in his world. As they disappeared into the building, Parker couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was time for Tori to have a little peace in her life.

Clint left the truck in Park. He reached over and took Parker's hand. “She's safer here,” he said, as if he knew what Parker was about to say.

He'd done a good job of blaming the shots on men out hunting on his land, but now she knew he had the same fear she did. Maybe whoever was out there was looking for Tori. It made no sense, but she had a feeling they both knew that somehow the shots and Tori's hiding out at her place were related.

“Tell me about her,” Clint said. Then, before she could start, he added, “Whatever you say won't affect one thing. I'll still keep her secret if that's the way you want it. I'm guessing she's not on the run from the law or you wouldn't be putting her up at your place. And somehow I doubt she's a serial killer.”

He pulled her hand toward him. “I just need to know the truth, Parker. If it comes to a fight, and after tonight I think it might, I want to know what I'm fighting for because I plan to be standing next to you when trouble comes.”

“All right. I'll tell you as you drive home.”

Without a word, he put the truck in gear and turned toward her place.

Parker relaxed. As Clint drove home slowly, she told him Tori's story and he listened, asking questions now and then. By the time they were back at her house, he had a plan. “All Tori has to do is call in. The police. Her parents. The press. Once she does the reward is gone, and so will be anyone looking for her. If she's no longer missing, no one will be looking for her. She doesn't have to tell her parents or even the police where she is. Just that she's safe and living where she wants to be.”

Parker shook her head. “If she talks, someone will find out. What if her parents show up? What if your ranch is overrun with reporters? The press loves stories about writers and artists who they think go nuts. They'll talk about it on air, claiming she must be on drugs or imbalanced. Just calling in seems the right thing to do, but it's not that simple.”

“I could post a sign saying trespassers on the property are shot on sight. But it sounds like her parents might try to prove she's not in her right mind. After talking to her, even I can tell she's sane, but it sounds like her stepdad might already be spinning his own story. That could be bad for her.”

They walked into her house talking easily now. He helped her with her coat and hung it on a peg by the back door. She turned on the stove and heated water for tea that she doubted he'd drink.

After they tossed the untouched dinner and cleaned up, they sat on the couch and ate one of the desserts. They kept talking—really talking—and in the end both agreed that Tori's presence should be kept quiet. Somehow they'd find a way to settle this, but both thought it would be best if she would remain the invisible artist holed up in Parker's hideout.

Neither talked about what had happened at Clint's place a few nights before. For Parker that kind of tender loving couldn't be put into words. She'd never known a man could make her feel so totally alive even though she'd known from the first that it was just a one-night stand. He'd never mentioned more and she refused to draw him in with promises of a life together when she knew there might not be one.

He made no effort to touch her while they sat on opposite ends of the couch, but Parker remembered every detail of their night, every touch, every kiss, every time he'd made love to her as if he'd been starving for her for years. It wasn't just sex. It was loving. The kind of full-out, complete loving that she'd never known. Despite what he'd said about wanting a fling, she had a feeling it would be all or nothing with Clint if she let what they'd started continue.

Only she couldn't. She had a date with a doctor in Dallas as soon as Tori's life was settled. A date with death perhaps, even though the doctor hadn't said the word
cancer
.

Looking at her cowboy, Parker wished for more. If he said he'd stand with her and fight to help Tori, she knew he would. That was all she'd ask for.

Her body ached for his nearness, but she couldn't go to him. Somehow it would be surrendering to need, and Parker wasn't built like that. She would not get any more emotionally involved. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wasn't her nature. She didn't have the time. It was better for them both if she ended this with one perfect night shared together.

“Did you ever think about painting?” He broke the silence between them.

She looked up, glad he was studying Tori's work on the wall. She wasn't sure she could meet those chestnut eyes. “I've thought of painting a few times, but it was always a someday thing and I've run out of somedays.” She looked at the fire, not him, when she'd realized what she'd said. All her life she'd known she would die young. She'd feared it until finally she'd simply accepted the fact.

Laceys never grow old.

She had no regrets...except maybe the time she missed spending with him.

“Oh, you know.” Parker had to say something before he started asking questions. “If you don't use a talent, you lose it. I guess I lost it. For a few years I sent art supplies and a letter asking the housekeeper to store it in the attic. I thought I'd slip away from Dallas and come here to paint.” She looked around her little house with its high windows and rooms painted to match the colors of this land.

“Thank you for watching over this place for me, Clint.”

“You're welcome. Flip and I had a great time arguing about the colors to paint the walls. I wanted it ready in case you ever did come.” He stood and moved to the window. “You know, I saw you once at your gallery.”

“I don't remember seeing you.”

“There were a ton of people in the place. You looked like a princess in a tower that night. I figured if you ever decided to come down to earth, you might come here.”

“You were right.”

He didn't ask more about her painting. He just stared into the night.

She wanted to know more about Yancy, but Clint was of little help. Clint wasn't a man who talked about others. He barely talked at all. So she filled the silence, telling him about her gallery and how she'd started her own business when she inherited a little money.

A little after ten, he stood and pulled her up into his arms. With a gentle kiss, he whispered, “I'm staying here tonight. I'll sleep on the couch, but I don't want to leave you here alone.” He grinned. “I'd say there is a good chance that Tori won't be home until tomorrow.”

“I agree. Thanks for the offer to stay. I don't think I want to be alone in the house.” She had no idea how to tell him how much their night together had meant. She had a feeling she'd long for his warm body lying next to hers for the rest of her life. But they'd said there would be no strings, no forever. She knew it would hurt him when she left, but she couldn't tell him why. Better that he remember her passion than think of her as sick. If he'd lost his wife, he'd already lost one love to illness. She'd not ask him to do it again.

Her leg hadn't bothered her lately. But Dr. Brown was still waiting for her to come back so he could make her more comfortable. Funny how not wearing high heels and never carrying a bag eased her back pain, but the knee weakness was still there.

“Well.” Parker straightened, pulling her emotions under control. “I'll say good-night. Thank you for all you did tonight.”

“You're welcome.” He waited.

“Well, good night.”

“You've already said that, Parker.”

She forced herself to move toward the steps. “There is coffee in...”

“I'll figure it out.” He didn't move. He just watched her.

She almost said good-night again, but there was nothing else to say. He might be just downstairs but she swore he seemed a million miles away.

When she started up the stairs, she glanced back.

He was making a bed out of a blanket and one of the decorative pillows she'd bought online.

“You'll turn off the lights?” she said.

“I will,” he answered, without looking up.

She waited, hoping he'd say something, anything, that wouldn't put an end to their night.

But he didn't.

She climbed the stairs into the darkness, feeling hollow inside. It had been too much to dream of repeating their night in his loft. Those kinds of things happened only once, if ever. They barely had enough in common to spend one evening talking. There was no future between them—just one perfect night she'd remember. Tomorrow they'd probably have little to say and the day after that he'd go back to being a stranger.

As she walked into her bedroom, she turned on only a desk lamp. She wanted the room to be as dark as her mood had become. She'd survived all her life trying not to feel, and she told herself she didn't plan on changing now.

Dressing in her colorful pajamas, she remembered how Clint had made fun of them. As she moved through her routine, brushing her teeth, putting lotion on her hands and face, she felt like he was so close, yet he seemed like a million miles away.

When she turned out the desk lamp, she noticed only a pale blue glow of the moon through the big, curtainless windows.

Parker had always loved the beautiful way evening shadowed the world in cool, watery blue. When she'd been a kid she'd thought of it as fairy light. She moved to the top of the stairs so she could see the color gently washing over her house, Tori's paintings and Clint sleeping on the couch below.

She'd have to go only halfway down to the landing. Clint wouldn't even know she was there, but she had to see the colors of the night sky. She wanted to see her cowboy sleeping.

Parker was almost to the landing when she saw Clint standing there, his back to her. She could see his white socks and his dark jeans that looked black now. His back was bare to his waist, and his hands were spread wide on the landing railing. His head hung low as his hands clenched on the smooth wood of the banister.

She lowered one last step to join him on the landing. “What are you doing, Clint?”

He took his time turning around. “I'm coming up, if you'll welcome me.”

Letting go of the railing, he turned and faced her. “Parker, I think I understand what you're afraid of. I don't want to take your somedays. I don't want to change anything about you or your life. I just want another night with you. This night.”

She smiled and watched him. He was asking for so little...and yet so much. More than she'd ever given of herself. Less than she'd need.

She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anyone or anything in her life. She'd give all her somedays if she could say yes, but she couldn't hurt him. He mattered too much to her.

But one more night. One more time in his arms. Then she'd walk away. They were old enough to know nothing lasts and they were young enough to understand a need too deep to ignore.

For once she couldn't talk. She just stared at him.

Finally, he snapped, “Why are you here, Parker? Did you forget something or just come down to torture me?”

Her heart shattered as she looked at him, knowing her need mirrored his.

“Yes. I forgot something,” she finally whispered and reached for his hand. “You.”

Without another word, they climbed the stairs. He made it to her doorway before he pulled her against him and kissed her hard. He was starved for the feel of her, hungry for her touch. His fingers slid over the silk of her pajamas and slipped beneath to her skin.

“I can't get enough of you, lady,” he whispered.

She felt her body warm to his touch and relaxed in his arms.

“One more night,” she whispered, knowing that one more would never be enough.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Safety's illusion

T
ORI
SLEPT
,
CURLED
against Yancy. They'd talked late into the night, telling each other all the secrets in their lives. She'd cried when she'd talked about her real father and he'd held her tight like, if he could, he'd take all the pain for her.

“My mother says I saw him die, but I don't remember that. All I remember was standing in his workshop doorway and seeing him on the floor. Dark crimson blood slowly circled round him. I didn't scream or anything. I just watched the blood.

“Then my mother dragged me away and screamed. She told everyone later that the sight of him had shattered me, but I think it was more that it shattered her. I just felt numb. Like, with the blood, all the color went out of my life. I wore black. I painted with blacks and grays. It wasn't that I was in mourning. There was just no color in the world.”

Yancy didn't say a word. He just held her as she cried.

“Finally, I realized my daddy didn't die. He lives on in his work. When I designed your banister using his idea, it made me smile.”

Yancy kissed her cheek. “He'd be very proud of you. You're like him in your art, but you're not like him in life. You're stronger, Tori.”

She shook her head. “I don't know.”

“I know,” he added. “You ran. You got away.”

Tori smiled. “I did, didn't I?”

“You can do anything you want. I believe in you and so does Parker.”

Hesitantly, they spoke in
what-ifs
.

What if they promised, no matter what happened next in their lives, that they'd always meet one weekend a year somewhere exciting? Yancy said he'd pick the state fair in Dallas. Tori picked Paris near a bridge she loved.

What if they could live anywhere in the world? Tori wanted to travel. Yancy said he'd stay right here.

What if they got married and had kids? He wanted girls. She said definitely only boys.

What if they moved to the country? He wanted to raise cows. She swore chickens would be easier.

They laughed and played at arguing and held one another, but at first light, Tori slipped from his bed. She knew he'd said he would take her back to Parker's place, but she loved to walk. In the half-light when shadows still swayed, all the world seemed newborn. She loved the sunlight crossing across the land as if, just for a moment, it tiptoed into dawn before bolting forward into full day.

Walking had always helped her think and dream, and with Yancy, there were so many things to dream about. The idea of having days, years to paint without stress seemed a special kind of heaven. Having one person to love her, truly love her, made the world a rich place.

She silently slipped out the side door of his place. First light. For a few minutes she thought she could see almost all the colors on earth.

So she'd leave Yancy sleeping and hurry home before he even had time to miss her. She'd slip up to her attic studio and paint until she heard Parker banging around below making breakfast. They'd talk about all that had happened the night before. Then it was time Tori made some decisions, and no one would be more help than Parker.

Tori left the sleeping edge of town and ran toward the farmhouse she now thought of as home, her head already full of plans.

For a half mile, she took the empty road, listening for a car so she could vanish before it neared. By the time the sun began to peek over the horizon, she was on a path between a stand of cottonwoods and almost in sight of the private road leading to Clint's place and Parker's house. A few more minutes and she'd see the roof of the house. The attic windows would sparkle in the sunrise, welcoming her. Her work was there waiting for her.

Everything seemed so beautiful. Early spring. Cool and crisp.

She hesitated when she had to cross through the one place where the tree branches doubled across one another. It was the only part of her walk that made her uneasy. The wild branches tried to snag her and the wind always seemed a bit colder as it whipped around the buffalo grass that reached almost to her waist.

Tori tucked her head down, pushing her chin into Yancy's coat as if she were a turtle. She knew the path by heart, but still kept her eyes on the ground for fear she'd trip over a branch that had fallen.

Halfway through the stand of trees she thought she heard something moving behind her. It seemed more than a squirrel skirting around her, and she worried that it was a wild pig. Those ugly animals could weigh several hundred pounds and had tusks sharp enough to rip flesh.

Tori moved faster, wanting to be out of the trees.

Glancing back, she tripped over a root and almost tumbled on the uneven ground. She slowed, took a deep breath and tried to calm herself and think logically. Wild pigs made noise, lots of noise. She'd never seen one on Parker's place, much less this close to town. What she'd heard could have been caused by the wind or a rabbit or even a shy deer darting out of sight. She forced herself to calm.

More movement rustled the dry grass. A twig snapped behind her, but she didn't turn around.

Tori kept moving. Not too fast or she might fall. Not too slow.

Then, steady as a saw, she heard breathing.

Suddenly, her world went black.

No color.

No light.

Something rough and heavy was thrown over her face and yanked down over her shoulders. A rope tightened at her waist, trapping her arms inside what felt like a sack. She tried to push it away, lift it off, but the prisoning bag tightened as another strap circled her shoulders, trapping her completely. She screamed, but her cries seemed only to echo in her own ears. No one could have heard her now.

Tori fought to stay conscious as big, beefy hands jerked her up. What felt like his shoulder rammed into her middle, knocking the air from her lungs, and a low male voice swore.

He threw her over his shoulder as if she were no more than an empty bag as he began to run. When she kicked and struggled, he hit her hard on the bottom. “Give me any trouble and you'll regret it.”

She kicked harder, getting in a few blows on his leg.

Suddenly, he swung her down and held her tight on each side until she got her footing. “I told you not to give me any trouble.” He released his bruising grip on one arm. “Maybe we should get something clear before we go any farther.”

A moment later she felt what had to be his free hand slam into the side of her head. When she cried out, another blow hit her just below her chin, sending her head snapping back.

“I'm not putting up with any crap from you.” His voice echoed around her now. “You come easy now, girl, or I swear you'll regret it.”

Tori barely felt the third hit; she'd lost her fight. She tumbled into a well without sound, feeling or thought. She gave no resistance as his hands grabbed her again and tossed her over his shoulder.

The last picture in her mind, of Yancy sleeping in his multicolored room, melted away like old crayons left on a summer sidewalk.