Sunshine and the Shadowmaster (6 page)

Heather dropped to the bottom stair and leaned her head against the newel post. She wanted to go to Lucas's door and knock on it, to ask him if he was all right. But then again, it seemed inappropriate to go knocking on his door in the middle of the night.

So she did nothing. She sat there in the dark at the base of the stairs, tired enough that she fell to musing.

Across the hardwood floor, between herself and the door to Lucas's room, loomed the big, polished mahogany dining table. The rich wood gleamed in the spill of moonlight from outside.

That table had once belonged to Lucas's grandmother, Cecilia Drury, back all those years ago, when the Drury Ranch claimed most of the land for miles around.

Rory, Lucas's father, had been Cecilia's only child. People said Rory had loved only one woman: Bathsheba Riley, whom he'd lost forever when Oggie Jones came to town. After Bathsheba married Oggie, Rory became a wastrel—because of thwarted love, most folks said.

Over the years, the massive tracts of Drury land had been sold off, parcel by parcel. When Rory died, Lucas and his mother, Norma, had been the only Drurys left. The land was gone, and so was all the money.

Norma had married Jason Conley, bringing with her to Jason's house the few fine pieces of furniture she had managed to keep. And now Cecilia Drury's table held the place of honor in the Conley dining room—while the Conley house and everything in it belonged to Heather, who was a Jones by birth.

What would cruel old Rory Drury have thought had he known that one day all that was left of his family's belongings would be owned by the granddaughter of his archenemy, Oggie Jones?

Heather shook herself. This was ridiculous. She couldn't sit here on the stairs all night, ruminating on the origins of her furniture. Either she had to get up and knock on that door or go back to bed.

She put her hand on top of the newel post and pulled herself to her feet.

And then, from the dark living room to her left, she heard the smallest sound. She held utterly still, not sure really what she had heard.

No more sounds were forthcoming. But it didn't matter. She was suddenly sure of where Lucas could be found.

Her feet whispered across the bare floor as she approached the arch that led into the living room. She saw Lucas sitting in the easy chair in the corner. He'd opened the curtains and run up the shades—so he could look out at the night, she supposed.

Though he said nothing, she knew he watched her as she went to the end of the couch nearest his chair and sat down, gathering her feet up to the side and wrapping her bare toes in the softness of her robe.

After she was still, he seemed to watch her for a moment more, then he asked in a voice that sounded vaguely amused, “Worried about me?”

She sat a little straighter in her corner of the couch. “Yes, I was. A little.”

“Only a little?”

“All right. More than a little.” She looked at him levelly—or at least at the shadowed shape of him. She couldn't see his features very clearly in the dark.

“I'll survive,” he told her. “I always do. Worry about Mark. He's the one who needs it.”

“I am. I do.”

Lucas looked away, toward the front windows. “Candace needs one more day, to get things squared away. And then she'll be flying into Sacramento. She'll rent a car from there.”

“All right.” Heather shifted a little, leaning on the armrest—and wondering why she didn't say good-night and retreat to her room where she belonged. She'd checked on him and he was all right—or as all right as a man whose only child is missing can be.

His head swiveled toward her again. “Candace is one hell of a lawyer, you know?”

She nodded. “I've heard that, yes.”

“If it weren't for her, I might still be locked up tight in an Arizona penitentiary.”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean,
yes?
”

“It means I've heard about...how she defended you.”

“I'll bet you did. This is North Magdalene, after all, right? And people will talk.”

She saw no reason to argue with that. “Yes, people will talk.”

But he wouldn't let it go. “Small minds in small places.” Now his voice was bitter. “How the hell can you live here?”

She answered gently and firmly. “I love it here. I would never live anywhere else.”

He said nothing for a moment. Then he softly sighed,

“I'm sorry. I'm being an ass.”

She smiled. “It's okay. You're entitled. Up to a point.”

He rested his head on the back of the chair. Silence filled the darkness.

Heather looked out the window across the room, at the stars and a tiny sliver of moon gleaming between the leaves of the locust tree beyond the gate.

“Did you know that Mark changed my life?”

She started at the sound of his voice and looked at him. He seemed to be watching her again. His head was lifted and facing toward her.

“No,” she said. “Not really. Though now I think about it, it doesn't surprise me. Kids have a tendency to do that.” She suggested, carefully, “Why don't you tell me about it?”

“About how Mark changed my life?”

“Yes.”

“It's not important.”

Heather peered at him through the darkness. She wished she could see his face more clearly, but she knew that if she switched on a light everything would be ruined. In spite of what he said, she was reasonably sure that the tone of his voice meant he was willing to talk a little about himself and his son—here, under cover of darkness in the middle of the night. She thought that would be a good thing, lights or no lights.

“I'd like to hear it,” she said, “if you'll tell me.”

“What you should do is go to bed. It's late.”

“I know.”

“Well?”

“Talk. Tell me about how it was for you, after you left home. And about Candace. And Mark.”

“Heather?”

“Yes?”

“You're too good.”

“It's true. I'm wonderful. Now please. Tell me.”

He moved around in the chair, settling in as she had done on the couch. And then he began, “I left home the day after I graduated high school.”

“Yes. I remember that.”

“And after I left, I wandered around a lot, taking odd jobs, kind of living on the road, really.”

“Wasn't that lonely?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “What's lonely? Everyone's lonely.”

“Not everyone. Not always.”

“Tell me you're not lonely now, Heather.”

She smoothed her robe a little. “This isn't my story. It's yours.”

“Right. My story.”

“Go on.”

He looked out the window again. “You've heard about the assault and battery charge?”

“Yes. But only in bits and pieces. Tell me about it.”

He let out a breath. “Well, when it happened, I was living in Phoenix, working as a roofer, making fairly good money, or so it seemed to me then. At least, I had enough money to get an apartment. One of those courtyard type of places, where you look across a walkway lined with century plants into your neighbor's living room.

“The apartment across from mine was rented by a woman who had two little boys. And lots of boyfriends that came and went. But then after a while, she seemed to settle down with one guy.”

“And?”

“Unfortunately her steady boyfriend had a bad habit.”

“What?”

“He liked to beat up her kids. Twice, I heard one or the other of those kids yelling and I'd go over there and make him stop. Finally, that bastard went too far. I heard one of the boys screaming and I went over there. When I broke in the door, the kid was bleeding. And he wasn't screaming anymore.”

Lucas made a low, disgusted sound. “I don't know. I just lost it. I'm sure it's all wrapped up in my father, and the way he used to beat on me and my mother. But whatever it was, I saw red. I jumped on that worthless piece of garbage. And when I was done with him, he couldn't
crawl
out of there.”

“What happened then?”

“I drove him and the kid to the hospital.”

“And then?”

“The cops came after me at work the next day. It turned out I'd beat up the son of a very important person. They threw the book at me. Since I didn't have more than a few hundred dollars to my name, they gave me a public defender.”

“Candace?”

“Right. No one believed I had a chance, because that guy I'd beat up was in bad shape. I had done major, permanent damage to him. But Candace was good, you can't believe how good. She got me off.”

Lucas shook his head and gave a low chuckle. “I idolized that woman. And she deserved it. She was
—is
the best. I was twenty-four. She was thirty. She came from a good family and she radiated class. The kind of woman who would never look twice at a loser like I was. But she shocked me. She
did
look. We became lovers.”

“And she got pregnant?”

“Yes. But by the time that happened, it was pretty much over between us. It had been ‘lust' at first sight, I guess you could say. But it wasn't something that lasted that long.”

“So...she came to you, and told you about the baby?”

“Yeah. She was straight with me. And when she told me, I don't know, something happened inside me.” Lucas leaned forward in his chair, as if seeking a clearer view of Heather than the darkness would allow him. “Do you understand? Can you believe what that meant to me? I had nothing. I
was
nothing. And yet she and I had made this baby. And the baby was everything I never was. Hope. A possible future. A chance to start over and make a different kind of life.”

“Yes,” Heather answered softly. “I do. I understand.”

Lucas sat back again, as if her answer had satisfied him. “It seemed so important. That the baby have a chance. I got down on my knees to Candace. I begged her to keep the baby. I promised her, if she'd just have the baby, I'd make something of myself and take full responsibility for the kid within five years.”

“And she agreed?”

“Yes. She even married me, so the baby could have my name with no questions asked. But the marriage wasn't much more than a formality. And we went ahead and got a divorce a few years later. Neither of us was the marrying kind, anyway.”

He fell silent.

Heather prompted, “And then what happened?”

He shifted in the chair again, then went on. “At first, Candace kept Mark with her. But then gradually, she admitted she just didn't have the time to be a round-the-clock mother. Mark came to live with me. And by that time I'd discovered I had a talent for writing horror.”

He actually chuckled then. “Hell. I've always scared people. I figured I might as well get paid for it.”

“So what you're saying is, you did it.”

“What?”

“Kept your promise. To make something of yourself.”

“Yeah. I kept my promise. But the point is, it was all supposed to be for Mark. If it wasn't for Mark, for me swearing I'd get my life together to give my kid a chance, I'd still be living on the road, picking up odd jobs and knowing I'd turned out just like my mean old daddy said I would, nobody with nothing. Mark is the reason for everything I am. Everything I have. I've worked like a dog for ten years to make a secure life for him. And somehow, in the process, I've managed to drop Mark himself completely out of the equation. Which is why I'm sitting here in my stepfather's dark parlor after midnight, hearing my own damn voice over and over in my head, ‘Not now, Mark. Later, Mark. Soon, Mark...'”

Heather had that urge again to reach out to him, to touch him. But she controlled it.

And he continued in a hollow voice. “I can't stop thinking the worst. I can't stop thinking that there may never be a
soon.
There may never be a
later....
”

Lucas lapsed into silence, then he told her, “In a day or two, if there are no new leads, they'll start talking about calling off the search. When a kid runs away, there's only so much they can do. Because he could be anywhere. He could be in L.A. In Colorado. New Mexico. Or dead in a ditch somewhere, with his head bashed in.”

It was too much. Heather spoke up. “Don't...”

“I thought you wanted me to talk.” His tone was mocking now, cold.

“Not like that. It's not good. You can't afford to talk like that. You can't even let yourself
think
like that.” Heather stood. “You have to clear your mind, get some sleep.”

A harsh sound came from Lucas. “Get some sleep for what?”

“So that when morning comes you'll have the strength to get up and start looking for Mark all over again.”

Lucas rose, then. He came toward her, out of the darkness. When he was close enough to touch her, he stopped. She could feel his gaze moving over her, as he studied her in the pale moonlight from outside.

“How old are you, exactly?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Hell,” he scoffed. “Only a kid.”

Heather stiffened as if she'd been slapped. He had just revealed something of himself to her. And he'd gone too far. Now he wanted to withdraw. So he was taunting her, putting her in her place by calling her a child.

But Heather wouldn't be put in her place. She said, “I was a straight
-A
student in high school, did you know that?”

He made a low, noncommittal sound, as if her history didn't interest him.

She went on anyway, “I could have had scholarships to some pretty good colleges. But I didn't go after a scholarship. Maybe you could say I had no ambition. Or maybe my idea of success is just different than most people's. Because I always knew what I wanted from life. I wanted to marry Jason Lee and have a family with him, to raise kids here, in this town that I know like I know my own heart.