Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise (26 page)

"What in the hell do you think you're doing!"

Their arms and legs stopped flailing. Vance looked ashamed and turned his head away. His mouth was bloody, and his eye was already purpling. Cal stared mulishly at Luke.

"Damn it, this is the last straw!" Luke surged with fury. He let go of Vance, and the boy backed away uncertainly. Luke grabbed Cal by both shoulders and faced him.

Julia took her son by the arm. "Just what do you think you were up to, young man?" she asked crisply. Vance couldn't meet her eyes. "Come along and get washed up."

Julia looked at Sarah. Sarah hesitated, making a vague gesture toward Luke and his son. "You go on. I better stay out here."

"There's nothing you can do. They have to work it out by themselves."

Sarah cast another look toward the man and boy, so alike, so hard, and sighed. "All right."

They went back inside, leaving Luke and Cal in the yard by themselves. Julia sent her son upstairs to clean up, and the two women stayed by the back door, looking out.

"You've done it once too many times," Luke told Cal fiercely, punctuating his word with quick shakes of the boy's shoulders. "What did you think I would do? Keep on taking it and taking it and never bring you up short? What in the hell is the matter with you? Sarah and I have given you the best home we know how, but all you can do is sass and back talk and get into trouble. And now this. You terrorize every child in our family!"

Cal set his jaw, trying to wipe out all traces of fear from his eyes. "You want me to cut the switch now?"

"What?"

"I said, you want me to cut down the switch? Grandpa always made me cut down the switch 'fore he strapped me with it."

Luke went still. He stared at the boy for a long moment. "You're trying to make me whip you like your grandpa did, aren't you? That's why you've been doing all these things— to make me break down and beat you."

Cal's mouth tightened, but he said nothing.

Luke sighed. The rage drained out of him. He went down on one knee in front of Cal, his hands still on the boy's shoulders. "I don't know why you want that. I don't know what you're trying to prove. But I can promise you, I'm not going to whip you. Do you understand? You can do what you want, but that won't happen."

Luke let go of Cal, and his hands went to the front of his own shirt. He unbuttoned it and pulled it down off his shoulders, exposing his tanned back. He turned his back to Cal. Cal stared. Luke's hard, muscled flesh was browned by the sun, but thin white scars slashed the darker skin.

"See those?" Luke asked quietly, the tinges of an ancient pain in his voice. "I've got the same scars you have, only a few more, 'cause I had to live with my daddy longer than you've lived with your grandpa. I got them the same way you did." He turned back to face Cal, shrugging his shirt back on. "That's why you don't have to be scared of me whipping you. I won't. Ever. So you don't have to try to make me do it."

They looked at each other. Cal backed up a step. "Well, if you ain't gonna whip me, then I don't have to do nothin' you say, do I?"

"Oh yes. You'll obey me." Luke's eyes bored into him steadily. "You'll do what's right. Not because you're scared of me, but because inside you know what's right. No matter what trash your grandfather told you about yourself, you're good inside."

"You don't know nothin'."

"I know you. I'm your father. And I was just like you. I know you through and through."

Luke put his arms around Cal and pulled him close. Cal stood stiffly within the circle of his arms, but Luke continued to hold him. At last Luke felt the hesitant touch of Cal's hand on his cheek. He buried his head into the crook of the boy's neck. Cal's arms went around Luke's neck. Luke's eyes filled with tears, and he hugged Cal to him tightly.

S
arah watched Luke and Cal as they knelt in the yard, their arms around each other, and tears pricked at her eyes. "I used to daydream about Luke with his little boy, about how close they would be, how much alike. Now he has that."

"Except that the son isn't yours," Julia put in softly.

Sarah glanced at her sister-in-law sharply, but saw only concern in Julia's face. "Yes. Except that he isn't mine."

"How do you feel about Cal's living with you all? When Luke told, I wondered whether you wanted Cal, too, or just Luke."

Sarah sighed. "At first I didn't. When Luke told me what Tessa had said, I refused to believe it. I thought I wouldn't be able to stand it, that every time I saw him I would be reminded of the baby I had lost, I was afraid it would be too painful."

"And has it been?"

"No. I've been surprised. It isn't often that Cal makes me think of my son. Maybe it's because he's older. But I find I simply think of him as himself. Just now, when I was thinking how I'd wanted a son for Luke, for the first time I didn't feel horrible despair because I hadn't given him one. I just—I envied their closeness!" Sarah turned away, hugging herself tightly, trying to push anguish back down inside her

Julia frowned. "I don't understand."

"It's so awful! I don't think Luke loves me anymore."

"Nonsense! I've never seen anyone love a woman as much as he loves you."

"He's changed. Used to be, after supper we'd sit together and talk. It didn't matter about what. It was enough just to be there, with his arm around me and listening to his voice. We were so happy! We were so in love! But nowadays, I hardly see him. He gulps down his food so he won't have to sit long at the same table with me. He rushes off to the fields early in the mornings and doesn't come back until dark."

"There's a lot of work in the summer on a farm."

"But it's not like the other summers. He makes excuses to get out of the house. He goes down to the barn to check on something, or he just walks around the yard. Anything to avoid being with me. He—" Sarah blushed "—he sleeps in another room."

"Oh, Sarah. I'm sorry. I had hoped that you and he had made up/"

"We didn't fight. There's nothing to make up. He just doesn't want to be around me! I think he hates me."

"No, that's impossible."

"Yes, He hates me for losing the baby. For losing his son."

"That's ridiculous. As if you could have done anything to stop it! I know Luke wouldn't blame you for that."

"Why else would he be so cold to me? We're like strangers. Every once in a while, for a moment, we'll be close, like we used to be. Then Luke draws back, as if he's remembered why he dislikes me."

Julia took Sarah's hand and squeezed it. "I'm sure you're wrong. Luke wouldn't change that much," She paused. "I hope you won't take this the wrong way. I'm not trying to put any blame on you. I understand how you felt. But right after you lost the baby, you shut yourself off from the rest of us. Do you remember?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes. I felt awful and angry. I didn't want to see anyone. I hated everything, and it seemed like too much effort even to live."

"I know. I was the same way after Pamela died. I understand why you didn't want anyone around, why you didn't want comfort. But I'm not sure Luke did. You shut him out then, Sarah. You turned away from him. Maybe he thought that you didn't want him."

"But I did! At least, after a little while I did. I wanted him to take me in his arms, but I couldn't reach out to him. I just couldn't! I couldn't ask him for comfort. He was too cold, too remote."

"Maybe he felt the same way. He was grieving, too. He needed comfort. At the time perhaps neither of you had comfort to give, but that could have created the distance between you."

Tears brimmed in Sarah's eyes. "I don't know. Maybe so. I've been so confused. Nothing seems right anymore. I want it back the way it was. I want to be happy again. But I don't see how it can ever be like that again."

"It can't be exactly the same," Julia agreed. "But you and Luke can be happy together again. I'm sure of it. There was too much love between you for it to die."

Sarah looked back out in the yard at her husband. Tears ran unheeded down her cheeks. "I hope so, Julia. More than anything in the world, I hope so."

❧

All the way home, Sarah thought about what Julia had said. She remembered how she had turned her back on Luke when he came toward her right after the baby came. He had been offering her comfort, and she had refused it. Refused him. For days she hadn't wanted to see anyone. She recalled Luke coming and standing beside her bed, awkward and unsure. Often she had pretended to sleep, and when she hadn't used that pretense, she had answered only in monosyllables. How selfish she had been! How she must have hurt Luke.

It was no excuse, she thought, that she had been deeply hurt. Luke had suffered, too, but she hadn't thought about that. All she had thought of was her own grief. Even later, when she had gotten better, when she had wanted Luke's comfort, she hadn't made any real effort to heal the breach. She had seen the wall between them and had been hurt by it, but she hadn't done anything about it. Again, she had been too wrapped up in her own misery.

Poor Luke. He had been turned away and denied so many times in his life that he had come to expect it. It wouldn't have surprised him; it probably didn't even anger him. But Sarah knew it must have cut him like a knife, another rejection of him laid on the lacerations of countless others. A less sensitive man would have paid little attention to her turning away from him that time or to her subsequent silence. A more secure man might have realized that she was numb with grief and didn't mean any rejection of him. But not Luke. He wouldn't have said anything. That wasn't his way, just as it wasn't her way to pour out her grief and ask for comfort. He would have silently withdrawn into himself. He would have left her alone, as she seemed to want. He would have lived with his own grief and not let it show.

Sarah wondered why she hadn't realized it before, why Julia had had to point it out to her. But then, that was obvious, wasn't it? She had been concerned only with herself, too selfish to think of what Luke was suffering. Her own pain had blocked out everything else, even her love for Luke.

She was afraid she had mined her marriage by the way she had acted. What if Luke couldn't forgive her for rejecting him? She couldn't bear to live the rest of their lives with this coolness between them, especially knowing that it was her fault. She had to do something to mend things between them. She had to explain it to Luke and ask him to forgive her. Her stomach quailed at the thought that he might not accept her explanations, that he might cut her off coldly. Still, she had to try.

That evening, after they had put the children to bed, she stopped Luke before he could make one of his excuses to leave the house. "I'd like to talk to you for a minute, if you don't mind."

Luke turned and looked at her There was something odd in the tone of her voice. She looked so serious his stomach dropped. "Of course."

"Shall we sit on the porch where it's cool?"

He nodded and followed her out to the front porch. There was the barest slice of a moon in the sky. It was a velvet dark night, warm and close, holding the scent of the roses in front of the porch. An unexpected whisper of breeze touched Luke's skin, damp from the heat of the day, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Sarah sat down on the swing, but Luke sat upon the railing of the porch across from her, one foot on the floor, his hand curled around the narrow, carved post. Sarah looked down at her lap, where her fingers carefully pleated the material of her skirt. She didn't know how to begin. "Uh, Cal seemed better this evening."

"Knock on wood." He rapped the railing lightly.

"Your talk with him this afternoon must have helped. You're very good with him."

Luke shook his head ruefully. "I wish I was. Most of the time I'm groping in the dark. Hoping I'll do the right thing."

"I think you must have. He didn't get out of hand the rest of the afternoon and evening."

Luke grinned. "Maybe he'd just worn himself out. No, I think we got somewhere. I convinced him that we aren't going to beat him every time he does something wrong. He's been testing us, trying to goad us into whipping him."

"But why?"

"I don't know. It sounds crazy. But this afternoon when I was so furious with him, he asked me if I wanted him to cut down a switch. He said Jackson made him cut down the switch before he whipped him with it."

"Oh, Luke, how cruel!"

"I know. I'd like to have that man's throat in my hands right now." He made an encircling gesture with his hands. "But when Cal said that, I saw something in his eyes—like he was expecting a beating. More than that, almost anticipating it. I realized he was trying to push me into it. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that we would eventually turn out to be like Jackson, after all. Or perhaps he feels lost without the old hypocrite's rules and punishments."

"I don't understand."

"How could you? I hardly do myself. But you give him what he needs. Love and care and compassion."

Sarah swallowed. "I haven't been very generous in those areas lately."

"You always are."

"No. Not—not after I lost the baby." Sarah studied her nervous hands. She couldn't look at him. "I was talking to Julia today, and I realized a few things that I'd been too wrapped up in myself to notice before."

"What are you talking about?" Luke frowned. He didn't like to hear her criticize herself in any way.

"The way I acted when I lost the baby. I remember that I—" She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was low and pebbled with tears. "I turned away from you when you wanted to comfort me. I was so cold and distant; I hardly spoke to you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just—I felt so horrible! I didn't want to be comforted. I was so angry; I hated the world."

"You had every right to be angry. To hate me."

"No. I had no right at all. It wasn't that I hated you; I hated everything and everyone, but mostly me."

"Sarah, no."

"Yes. I hated myself for losing the baby. At the same time, I was full of self-pity; you'd have thought I was the only woman who'd ever had a baby born dead. It was wrong. I know I must have hurt you." Tears filled her eyes, and she looked up at him. "I'm sorry. You can't imagine how sorry. Please forgive me."

Luke's insides wrenched at the sight of Sarah's damp, luminous eyes. He would have killed for those eyes.

"Forgive you! You must be joking." Luke sat down on the swing beside her, taking her shoulders between his hands and turning her to look at him. "You shouldn't be asking my forgiveness. My God, Sarah. I'm the one who should go on my knees to you."

"No. Not ever." Her voice shook, and the tears poured down her cheeks. "Luke, do you still love me?"

"Still love you!" He pulled her against his chest. "How could I not love you? You're all in all to me."

Sarah wrapped her arms around him. She rubbed her cheek slowly, tenderly against his chest. "I've been so lonely the last few weeks. I've missed you. I was afraid you hated me for losing your son. And when I didn't want Cal, you thought I was heartless."

"No. No." Luke squeezed her even more tightly to him. His lips brushed her hair. She smelled sweeter to him than the rose-laden air. She was soft and warm in his arms. Desire rose in him, thick and hot.

"I was so wrong. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, Luke."

His arms trembled around her. He buried his face in her hair. He wanted to take it down and wrap it around him, tie them together with its sable softness. "Sarah." He kissed her hair. "Sarah." He kissed her forehead. His breath was hot against her skin.

Something stirred deep inside Sarah. Her skin felt suddenly tingling and alive all over. She hadn't felt this way in a long, long time. She had thought all passion was dead inside her; but now it stirred, and she flushed with anticipation. "It was lonely every night," she murmured. "I wanted your arms around me."

Luke made a peculiar, throaty noise. He kissed her eyes and cheeks, her ears, her hair. His breath rasped in his throat. He wanted to bear her back on the seat of the swing and sink into her. He wanted to feel her taking him in and hear her satisfied sigh as he filled her.

"Sarah." Her name was a moan. He couldn't stop kissing her face. He knew if he touched her lips, he'd be lost.

"Can we be together now? Will you come back to our room?"

His fingers dug into her. He wanted to scream with frustration. He couldn't take her. He couldn't. She had told him she loved him. They could have their old love and closeness again. Why couldn't that be enough for him? Why did he have to want her body so badly?

He had killed their child and almost killed her. He couldn't risk that again. His lust would not put her into the grave, as his father's lust had done to his mother

But how could he sleep with her and not make love to her?

How could he refuse to sleep with her and watch the hurt return to Sarah's eyes?

"Luke?" There was a hint of worry in her voice.

"Yes. Yes. Of course I'll come back to our room. If you want me to. I didn't want to disturb you."

Her laughter was like silver . "I'm not sick now."

They sat holding each other in the dark for a long time. Now and then Luke kissed the top of her head. He allowed himself nothing more. Later, they rose and went up to their bedroom. They changed clothes, self-conscious in a way they hadn't been since they were first married. Luke tried to look anyplace but at the glimpses of her white flesh that were revealed as she took off her clothes and put on her nightgown.

Sarah kept her back turned to Luke, a little embarrassed and feeling foolish about it. She could see him in the mirror of her dresser He peeled off his shirt and trousers. She looked down, but her eyes crept back up to gaze at him. Luke's chest was already browned by the early summer sun; it was padded with muscles. A thin line of hair ran down from his chest to the shallow well of his navel. His arms were corded, the hair on them the same sun-touched color as on his head. There was something rawly sexual about Luke. There always had been. No number of years of respectability could alter the sensual shape of his mouth or the blue promise of his eyes or the challenge of the way he moved.

Sarah's abdomen went warm and liquid. A prickle of anticipation started between her legs. She finished undressing quickly and put on her tight cotton nightgown.

They got into bed together, each pulling up his own side of the sheer Their eyes avoided each other. They lay down, inches apart. It was strange to be this close to each other after all these weeks. It seemed even stranger that it felt so odd. Sarah waited for Luke to touch her, to lean over her and kiss her He did nor She glanced at him shyly. The room was so dark she could see only the shape of his face. His eyes were deep shadow. He lay looking up at the ceiling, his arms crossed behind his head.

She wondered what he was thinking. She knew, looking at him, that he would not make love to her tonight. She didn't know why, and it hurt. For a while downstairs she had thought they had broken through the barriers between them. But apparently there were still others she hadn't even known about. She rolled over onto her side away from him.

Luke's muscles were as taut as stretched wire. He kept his arms linked beneath his head for fear that if they were free they would reach for Sarah, no matter what. It seemed as if he couldn't stop wanting her, couldn't stop remembering the taste of her mouth, the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, the tight fit of her body to him. His pulse throbbed. He wanted her. The harder he tried not to think about her, the more he did.

She turned onto her side, moving farther away from him. He thought it might make it a little easier, but it didn't. He lay awake, unable to sleep, unwilling to satisfy his desire, caught and aching. It was hours before he finally fell asleep.