Sunshine and the Shadowmaster (7 page)

“And I got what I wanted. The way I looked at it, I had everything. A man I loved. And finally, last fall...” She hesitated, not really believing what she was about to tell him. And then she heard herself say it, “...I had a baby on the way.” She took in a deep breath. “But I lost the baby.” She swallowed, convulsively. “And you know what happened to the man I loved. He died in an operating room after being trapped in a landslide working on a county road.”

The dark room seemed terribly quiet after that. From outside, Heather could suddenly hear the crickets singing and the night birds calling to one another through the trees.

“I'm sorry,” Lucas said.

Heather waved a hand, already regretting what she'd just done, wondering what in the world had possessed her to tell him about the baby. So few people knew. She'd only been two months along when she'd miscarried. It had happened just a week before Jason Lee died.

“Heather?” Lucas's voice was gentle. “I really am sorry. I didn't know about the baby.”

She swallowed and drew herself up tall. If she had said more than she should have, then the least she could do was make certain he got her point.

“Your apology is accepted. But from now on, respect the fact that I have lived through a rough time, too. And if I was more a girl than a woman before I lost my baby and my husband, you can bet I was totally grown up by the time I watched Jason Lee being lowered into the ground. Don't call me a kid.”

“I won't.” It was a vow. “Ever again.”

“Good, then. I'm satisfied.”

He was quiet, looking at her. Then he asked, very softly, “Are you really satisfied?”

She blinked. Even in the darkness, she was close enough to see his eyes. They had changed. They shone soft and deep. All at once, it was last night all over again.

“I don't—”

“Heather. Yes, you do.”

She stared at him. Not understanding. Yet knowing all too well.

He said her name again, on an exhalation of breath. And then, slowly and deliberately, he raised his hand.

H
eather let out a small gasp and stepped back before Lucas succeeded in touching her cheek.

“You're afraid,” he accused in a rough whisper. “Afraid to let me touch you.”

“I...” Her mind went blank. She had no idea what to say.

He said pointedly, “
You
touched
me
last night.”

She backed up another step, toward the end of the couch.

“Or was that only my imagination?” His voice was heavy with irony.

Heather bit her lip and shook her head.

“Well, then...” He waited.

She made herself say something. “I shouldn't have done that. Touched you. Last night.”

“Why not?”

“You know why. It's not right.”

“Because I'm Jason Lee's brother?”

Her heart was beating deep and fast. She forced herself to answer him. “Yes. Because of Jason Lee. Because of everything.”

“Jason Lee is dead.”

She only stared at him. What was there to say to that?

He wouldn't let it go. “You still love him, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“You're one of those women who thinks she has to be
in
love to
make
love, right?”

He was mocking her again. But she wasn't going to let that sway her. She had her beliefs and she lived by them. “Yes, I am.”

“There are other reasons for two people to touch.” Now his voice was silky. Soft and tempting. Dangerous.

“What reasons?” she asked in a dazed voice before she could stop herself.

And he told her. “Pleasure. Forgetfulness. Comfort. Making love can soothe pain, help you forget your loneliness for a while.”

Heather tried not to think that what he said made a scary kind of sense. “None of those reasons are enough for me.”

“They're not?” He sounded sad, then.

She clung to her principles, though she couldn't stop thinking that he was right. She knew loneliness so intimately, since her husband had died. And principles were cold consolation in the deepest part of a solitary night.

“I told you,” she said, surprised at how firm her voice sounded. “I had everything. When I let another man close to me, it won't be to settle for less than what I had before.”

Lucas let out a long breath. His eyes were so strange, so haunting, so keen. They seemed to see right inside her mind, to know that she wasn't really as steadfast in her conviction as she wanted to be.

In fact, if he were to try to touch her again, she wasn't absolutely certain she would stop him....

But he didn't try.

He only murmured a rueful, “You're right, of course.” Then he whispered a gentle good-night and left her standing there.

* * *

The next morning was like the morning before. Neither of them mentioned what had occurred in the night.

But the air was thick with tension. Too much had been said to pretend anymore that nothing was going on between them. So they tread cautiously with each other. They avoided eye contact. They spoke only when they had to.

Lucas ate his breakfast quickly and left before dawn. Heather was relieved to see him go. She poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat down at the table again, thinking she'd relax a little before Tawny came and it was time to head over to Lily's and another day of fielding reporters and praying every time the phone rang that it would be good news about Mark.

But she just couldn't sit still. She dumped her coffee down the drain and went upstairs to finish getting ready for work.

The day was a waking nightmare. It crawled by without a single bit of news about Mark. At Lily's there was talk of mountain lions. And how easy it would be for a boy to tumble down an abandoned mine shaft, or fall into the river and drown.

Heather spent her time trying not to listen to the grim chatter, messing up her orders and doing her best not to think about Lucas and the night before. Her shift was over at three. When she walked out onto the street and closed the door of the café behind her, she realized she'd never in her life been so glad to see a workday come to an end. She marched over to the post office and picked up three day's worth of mail, then stopped by the grocery store for some butter and eggs.

But when she reached her house, she almost wished she were back at work. She had to run the gauntlet of news-hungry reporters to get to her own front door. Inside she was greeted by Tawny, who had a list of messages a mile long.

Again, Tawny stayed until Heather had indulged in a nice, long bath and opened all her mail. Then, with Tawny relieved of duty, Heather went over the list of messages to see if there was anything she could handle for Lucas. There wasn't.

As the evening approached, Heather found herself both anticipating and dreading the moment Lucas would walk in the door. She felt pulled in a hundred different directions at once. She was scared to death for Mark. She prayed continuously, a silent litany to God.
Let him be well. Please, God. Return him to us. Let him come back safe....

She just couldn't relax. She was too keyed up. The phone calls were driving her crazy. But when the phone didn't ring, her memories wouldn't leave her alone.

She relived that awful, shattering moment when they had told her about Jason Lee. She hadn't made it to the hospital in time to be with him. They came out and told her that he had died while they were operating on him.

She kept seeing herself. Standing in that waiting room, feeling utterly alone, though her father and Eden and Grandpa Oggie had all been there.

The doctor had said, “I'm sorry, Mrs. Conley. He didn't make it.”

And she had made this strange, low, moaning sound and clutched her middle, where there was no baby. Nothing left. Of her lifelong love....

And now, not even a year later, there was this. Mark vanished. And Lucas, hurting, reaching out to her, needing any comfort she could give him.

And tempting her with so much more.

* * *

Lucas returned at twilight, as he had the two previous nights. Heather was waiting for him in the living room.

At the sight of him, she had to school her expression to hide her dismay. He looked like a man who'd already seen his son in the grave.

“Anything?” she asked.

“Nothing. And tomorrow they'll be going to half the number of search teams. They're all starting to believe he must have left the area. No one seems to know where else to look.”

Heather had risen from her chair when he came in. Now she sank back into it. “I see.”

He looked away. “I want to get cleaned up.”

“Of course.”

She waited to hand him the endless list of phone messages until he'd washed off the day's dust and changed his clothes.

He quickly scanned the pages. “Nothing urgent here.”

“I thought the same thing when I looked them over to see if there were any I could take care of for you.”

He looked up from the tablet, a weary approximation of a smile on his haggard face. “You're terrific, you know?”

Her hand itched to reach out, to reassure him with a touch. She clenched it at her side. “I only wish I could do more.”

“You've done a lot. More than I deserve, that's for damn sure.”

“No...”

“Yes.” He raked a hand back through his still-damp hair. “And I'm sorry. About last night. I hope you'll forgive me. I was out of hand—and out of control.”

“It's okay,” she said, and realized she meant it. Now that he was here, and they were talking honestly, she found she felt better than she had all through the endless, awful day that just passed.

“Thanks,” he said, then added low, “You're keeping me sane, you know. Single-handedly. I'm going to owe you for the rest of my miserable life.”

His words made a warm glow all through her. But she had to take issue with them. “No. You won't owe me anything. We're family, Lucas. You'd do the same for me. I know you would. This is a terrible time, that's all. And we're getting through it the best we know how.”

He made a noise in his throat. “I suppose.”

She ordered her mouth to form a bright smile. “But I'll tell you what.”

“What?”

“If you really do think you owe me, you can pay me back right now.”

He regarded her warily. “How?”

“My stepmother invited us to dinner. Let's go.”

He grunted.
“Now?”

“That's what I said.”

“Heather, I don't really feel like—”

“I know you don't. But that's not the point. You said you owed me. Now I'm telling you how to pay me back.”

“Heather...”

“You want to see a grown woman beg?”

“Damn it.”

“Just say you'll come. It'll be good for you. Please?”

“I just—”

“Say yes.”

He sighed. “All right. But I want to take Marnie's letters back to her. I should have done it yesterday, but somehow I didn't get around to it.”

“We can stop on the way over to my dad's house.”

“And I've got to call Candace.”

“It's no problem. Make the call. I'll get someone over here to handle the phone. And then we'll get out of here.”

* * *

Candace wasn't there, so Lucas left a message that he'd try again in a couple of hours. As soon as Tawny returned, they went out the front door together, muttered “no comment” a few times to the reporters waiting out by the gate, and climbed with some relief into the quiet cocoon of Lucas's big, expensive car.

Marnie came to the door when Regina called her and looked at Heather and Lucas rather warily.

“Thanks,” Lucas said and held out the stack of letters.

Marnie took them. “It's all right.”

There was an awkward moment, where they all just stared at each other, thinking about Mark, not knowing what to say. Then Heather reminded Lucas that they had to be on their way.

Marnie seemed relieved then. “Yeah. See ya.”

Heather glanced back over her shoulder as they went up the front walk to the car. The girl was standing in the doorway, watching after them, her stack of letters in her hand.

* * *

Jared Jones's rustic cabin lay on the outskirts of North Magdalene, more in the woods than in the town. Jared himself came out to greet them.

“Glad you could make it.” He held out his hand to Lucas. “Good to see you, Lucas.”

Lucas took the proffered hand. “Jared.”

Heather hugged her father, heartened as she always was whenever she saw him. To Heather, Jared Jones represented strength and security. Her father was the kind of man who would protect those he loved at any cost.

For years after Heather's mother had died, Jared had been at war with the world. And people had wondered how his only daughter could have grown up to be such a happy soul when her father was the surliest man in town.

What people didn't understand was that Heather's father had never been angry at her, only at the rest of the world. Heather herself had always felt cherished and secure. To her, it made perfect sense that she'd matured into a woman who trusted other people and was eager to love and be loved.

All Heather had ever wanted, when it came to her dad, was for him to find happiness.

And now he had.

“Come on in,” Jared said. “Eden's got dinner on.”

The house was warm and smelled of good food. Since baby Sally was already in bed, Heather tiptoed in to see her. She was sleeping on her back, her fat fist in her mouth. Heather bent over her, very carefully, and brushed a kiss on her round cheek.

Since it was already near nine, they sat down to eat as soon as Heather rejoined the others. Eden, who was quite a conversationalist, kept a steady stream of chatter going. She spoke of the progress they were making in rebuilding the Hole in the Wall and the Mercantile Grill, the family-owned bar and restaurant that had burned down last October. And she talked about Sally, who could pull herself to her feet now and say a few basic words.

But Heather realized pretty quickly that dragging Lucas here had been a mistake. The few times Eden delicately broached the subject of Mark's disappearance, Lucas either refused to respond or else redirected the talk to some other topic. He made it very clear he didn't want to speak of his missing son.

And since the one subject on all their minds couldn't be discussed, the dinner was a bleak affair. By the time they'd struggled through coffee and dessert, it was past ten and Heather said maybe it was time that they left.

Lucas was ready at the door almost before the suggestion was out of her mouth.

Heather apologized on the way home for insisting they go out when he wasn't up to dealing with company.

“Don't be sorry,” he replied. “It was a nice gesture.” He glanced at her. “They look happy. Your father and Eden.”

She nodded. “They are.” And then she smiled. “Who woulda thought it, huh?”

Lucas chuckled. “Yeah. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that all the Jones men have gone and settled down for good.”

“It's true. There's my dad and Eden. And Uncle Brendan's got Amy. Patrick's found Regina. Sometimes I'm amazed when I think of it. Because when I was a little girl, it seemed like none of them would ever find what they were looking for. Even my uncle Jack was a loner, from what I've heard. But now he's happily married to Aunt Olivia.”

Lucas turned onto Heather's street. “I have to believe, if all the Jones boys can end up happy, that
anything
is possible.”

Their eyes met once more. Heather knew that his thoughts mirrored hers.

If anything's possible, then maybe we'll still find Mark safe and sound....

When Lucas parked the car in front of the gate, the street looked deserted. The reporters appeared to have taken a break for the night. They made it all the way inside without having to say “no comment” once.