Walking on Air (26 page)

“I shall.”

Nan couldn’t resist the urge that overcame her to lean against him. It felt lovely and right when he released her elbow to curl a strong arm around her shoulders. Her reaction should have shocked her, but somehow, nothing about Gabriel or her feelings toward him could surprise her anymore. Now that she knew Barclay wasn’t dead, the only thing she still had to hide was Laney’s whereabouts. She knew in her heart that Gabriel would never put the girl’s happiness at risk. Nan could get her marriage to this man annulled, if she wished. But an annulment was the last thing she wanted now. She’d fallen in love with him, and she didn’t know what to do about it. So she rested more heavily into the circle of his embrace and enjoyed the undulating bump of his hip against her side as they walked.

“I have no idea what size shoe the boy wears,” she found the presence of mind to say.

“Just guess and buy him three pairs. Redmond will take back the ones that don’t fit.”

“Champion idea!”

Nan regretted their arrival at the shop door. Gabriel drew away to open it and ushered her inside.

Later, as they played poker with Laney, Nan couldn’t concentrate on the game. Instead she studied his handsome, dark face, the graceful way his big hands moved as he shuffled and dealt cards, and how muscle played under his black shirt whenever he moved. Later, after they went to bed, Nan lay curled on her side, facing him. As always, he pillowed his head on his folded arms, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep before she could blink.

She yearned to reach out and touch his bare chest. Her fingertips ached to explore the mat of curly black hair and test the texture of his skin. An ache formed low in her belly, and she felt hot and wet between her legs. The lady in her wanted to pretend she had no idea what caused that, but Nan had long since left behind the innocence of girlhood, and the woman in her demanded honesty, at least with herself. She wanted—no, needed—him to hold her, to make love to her. She wasn’t sure what that kind of intimacy entailed, but she trusted Gabriel, and the niggling fears at the edges of her mind weren’t enough to dampen her desire.

The problem was, she had no idea how to tell him that.

•   •   •

Nan believed that Gabriel’s dark mood had passed after their talk the night before, but on Monday, she noticed that his facial expressions were once again tense and grim. Before the morning was out, he’d left and then returned with a Christmas tree, which he had selected from Burke Redmond’s boardwalk display. While Nan dealt with the occasional customer, Gabriel left and soon came back with a board from the building supply store at the south end of Main, which he quickly fashioned into a sturdy tree stand. He worked like a dervish, and she got the disturbing impression that he was trying to avoid thinking by keeping busy.

When he suddenly turned to her and asked, “If you could wish for anything you wanted for Christmas this year—I mean absolutely anything, no matter how outlandish—what would it be?”

Hoping to make him laugh, Nan quipped, “Roses, a huge bouquet.”

When he didn’t even smile, Nan laughed for him. “I’m funning with you, Gabriel. It’s the dead of December. There isn’t a rose in bloom within a thousand miles.”

He finally relented and grinned, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Not true. Haven’t you ever heard of hothouses?”

“I grew up in Manhattan. Yes, I’ve even
seen
a few. But no such thing exists here in Random. People who grow vegetables in this climate have starts on their windowsills until sometime in June! And even then we can get a killing frost.”

He rubbed the nape of his neck and went back to scowling. “Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

Nan sighed. “No, of course not. I don’t think I ever did. In my childhood home, Saint Nick never got soot on his suit from our chimney, and our tree was only for show. I had packages under it every year, but only because guests over the holiday season would have thought it strange if I didn’t. My father didn’t believe in filling a child’s head with nonsense about magical beings.”

“Have you filled Laney’s head with nonsense?”

Nan brushed dust away from a hat perched on a rack that she’d been neglecting of late. “I have. Santa always brings her something special.”

Gabe studied her so intently that Nan stilled her fingers on a silk flower. “Will you promise me something?” he asked.

His tone made her heart catch. It was as if he were telling her good-bye. “Anything,” she said, throwing caution to the wind.

“On Christmas morning, no matter what happens, go out to the woodpile to see what Santa left for you.”

The backs of Nan’s eyes burned. “So you mean to surprise me with something, do you?” An ache crawled up from her chest to crowd her throat. “You’re not planning to leave, I hope. I mean . . . you’re so solemn. And you seem so sad. If you mean to go, Gabriel, please don’t do so without at least bidding me farewell. I won’t make it difficult for you. I promise. I’ll only . . . wish you Godspeed.”

He met and held her gaze. “I won’t ever leave Random, Nan. You can count on that. Just don’t forget to check that woodpile. It’d be a shame for a Santa gift to get covered with snow.”

“Ah, so you predict we’ll have a white Christmas?” Nan was shaking inside.

“I’ll even go so far as to guarantee one.”

Nan had to break eye contact. She hugged her waist and turned to survey the tree. “It’s beautiful, Gabriel. You have a good eye for shape. It’s a shame we can’t decorate it tonight, but it should wait until tomorrow, when Laney will be home to help. It’s her favorite part of Christmas.”

“Well, then, we’ll wait and have a decorating party!” he said, his voice jovial and yet oddly hollow. “I’ve never trimmed a tree. I’ll probably muck it up good, and Laney will be fixing everything I do.”

•   •   •

Gabriel vanished for the rest of the afternoon and returned just as Nan was about to conclude business for the day. With a somber nod of greeting to her, he went directly upstairs without a word. Nan might have followed him but for Laney’s sudden arrival home from school. In a whirlwind of excitement about the party at Melody’s that evening, the girl packed her things for an overnight stay and left again so quickly that Nan could barely get a word in. As Laney raced from the shop with a stuffed satchel in one hand, Nan was in the process of telling her not to forget her toothbrush.

Her voice trailed away when the door slammed. Stepping over to turn the sign and close for the day, Nan watched her sister skip across the dirt thoroughfare with Melody, her blue skirt bouncing beneath the hem of her cape, her beribboned pigtails swirling like golden ropes around her shoulders.
Fussy little snot.
Nan smiled sadly at the memory. The boy saw in Laney all that he wished for himself—and would never have by accident of birth. Nan hoped that Preacher Hayes found a family for the child soon. He deserved to have a home and people who cared about him. She would pray that he’d be settled somewhere before Christmas.

Until last night, Nan had been thinking about going against Gabriel’s advice and taking the kid in herself. She could turn her upstairs workroom into a bedroom for him. She no longer used it anymore, anyway. And in her opinion, Gabriel was the perfect candidate to take that bitter boy in hand. No matter how experienced some other man in town might be at fathering, he would never comprehend what that poor child had endured. Gabriel could, because he’d experienced it himself.

But, though Nan hated to admit it, Gabriel was right: The boy would be a handful, and she had to think of the effect his rebellious behavior would have on Laney. Not a good situation. Gabriel at least tried to mind his manners and curb his tongue.

Sighing, Nan went upstairs to start supper. Though Laney would eat at Melody’s tonight, Nan still had two hungry fellows and a dog to feed. She expected to find Gabriel in the kitchen, either making fresh coffee or drinking the cold dregs from that morning. The man did love his coffee.

Nan frowned when her husband wasn’t where she expected him to be. She stood just inside the closed door, listening for movement in the apartment and telling herself he might be in the water closet, but she heard nothing, not even the slight creak of a floor plank. Oh, no. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t in the bedchamber, lost in morose thoughts again. She’d heard from a customer that the contagion had taken another life this morning—that of an elderly man at the east side of town. Nan had never made the gentleman’s acquaintance, so though the news of his passing saddened her, she wasn’t affected in a personal way. Gabriel, however, seemed to take every death to heart—as if he might somehow have stopped it from happening.

That was totally irrational, in Nan’s opinion, and it disturbed her that Gabriel’s usual practical nature had abandoned him. No one could save people from a contagion like this. It swept through a town, hitting here and there like a twister touching down, no rhyme or reason to it. Nan could only pray that no one else died and that she and her loved ones would be spared.

Her fear was realized when she quietly entered the bedroom. Gabriel sat on the far side of the bed, once again hunched over with his head in his hands, as if the weight of all the world’s sorrows bore down on his shoulders. Nan couldn’t understand why he was reacting this way to something he couldn’t prevent. Perhaps it was because his mother had taken suddenly sick and died as a result. Gabriel might have horrible recollections of another contagion, and this one was dredging up all the old memories.

As she had last night, she went to sit beside him. When she glanced over, she saw that his whole body was taut with tension. The cuffs of his shirtsleeves, folded back from his wide wrists, were tight over the knotted muscles in his forearms. She rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.

He jerked and shifted away. “Don’t. I’m not myself right now. Stay away from me.”

“Gabriel, I don’t under—”

“You don’t need to understand,” he nearly shouted. “What you need to do is listen to me and stay the hell away from me.”

Nan froze with her hand inches from touching his shoulder again. A threat laced his tone, and she realized with a start that he was warning her that he might hurt her, which was stuff and nonsense. Nan wasn’t sure when she’d come to trust Gabriel so completely; she only knew that she had.

“I’m not afraid of you, Gabriel. You’d never harm a hair on my head.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, cozy up, honey, because right now I’m in sore need of something to drown my sorrows in—either whiskey or a woman, I don’t really care which, and you’re closer than the damned saloon.”

Nan heard his words, but she still felt no fear. She didn’t know what tormented him, but if he needed comfort, she was more than willing to give it. She laid her hand on his shoulder and pressed in with her fingertips. “Whatever is wrong, let me help you. Please?”

He turned so suddenly to clutch Nan in his arms that her breath hitched in her chest. The next thing she knew, his hot, hungry mouth slanted over hers. For an instant, she recoiled. His embrace vised around her like a crushing band of steel. He traced her teeth with his tongue. She couldn’t get any air. This wasn’t her Gabriel. Her Gabriel was gentle, never taking what wasn’t offered, never even asking.

But he was asking now. Rigid, her breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest, she made fists over his shirt, fully intending to struggle. Between one heartbeat and the next, though, she forgot why. That hot, melting sensation she’d experienced last night invaded her center again, making that secret place between her legs throb with every pulse beat and go wet. She could have sworn lightning threads were ribboning from the sky to lick at her skin. Gabriel released her only to catch her head between his hands.

“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered as he pillaged her mouth, tasting and suckling as a starving man might sweet nectar. Between thrusts with his tongue, he said hoarsely, “Don’t . . . say . . . no. Please . . . don’t . . . say . . . no.”

Nan couldn’t have spoken if she tried, and she didn’t wish to try. Gabriel. Oh, how she’d come to love him—and yearn for him, for this. She wouldn’t have refused him for all the tea in China.

N
an was like a fire in Gabe’s blood, and his helplessness to save the life of a little girl fanned the flames. He wanted to tear off Nan’s clothing, shed his own, and lose himself in her, not only once, but again and again, letting himself become so dizzy with desire and passion that he wouldn’t be able to think.

But, oh, God, she was so incredibly sweet, a precious package that should be carefully unwrapped so as not to damage the ribbons and pretty paper. Though need slammed through him in urgent waves, more intense than he’d felt with any other woman, he tried to gentle his kisses and his touch, nibbling hungrily but persuasively at her lips to teach her the primal dance of tongues that would fan the embers of her ardor, so long banked and buried. He stretched out with her on the coverlet, canopying her slender body with his own, his weight resting on one arm and hip. Feathering light kisses along the curve of her cheek, he found the sensitive hollow under her shell-like ear and traced teasing circles there with his tongue. He had imagined doing this so many times that it seemed as if he’d done it before, only nothing he’d conjured in his mind could compare to the reality. Lavender and silken skin. Tendrils of golden hair that wisped against his jaw like bits of goose down, so soft, so fine, so absolutely feminine. When she moaned and arched her body against him, he nearly lost control.

But this was
Nan
, not some woman he’d hired to satisfy his physical needs. Nan, whose laughter had been a prize hard won, whose trust was a priceless gift, and whose innocence humbled him. She caught his face between her slender hands and angled her head to settle her mouth over his, flicking shyly at his lips with the tip of her tongue. Need knotted in his groin, the ache spreading upward. His manhood throbbed and pushed against the fly of his jeans.

In between kisses, she whispered, “I love you, Gabriel. I love you so very
much
.” She sighed into his mouth, her breath honey sweet. “I shall thank God every day for the rest of my life for bringing you to me.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, his voice thick with desire. “Oh, God, sweetheart, I love you, too.”

As Gabe uttered the words, they slithered through his mind like venomous snakes, sinking their fangs into his conscience and releasing their poison. He froze above her, his breath coming in tortured, ragged gasps. He loved her. This wasn’t mere fondness that he felt. He’d fallen completely and irrevocably in love with this gentle, wonderful woman, and now he was about to betray her trust by taking the gift of her body when a monstrous lie and a web of deceit hung between them.

He jerked away from her, filled with self-loathing. She
wouldn’t
thank God every day for the rest of her life. On Friday at dawn, he was going to die and leave her, and there was nothing, absolutely
nothing
within his power to change that. He could hold her and cherish her and protect her for only three more days.

Gabe sprang from the bed, caught his balance, and stared at her, his aching lungs grabbing for breaths that couldn’t breach the clench of his throat. Nan stirred and blinked up at him in bewilderment.

“Gabriel?” She stretched a hand toward him. “What is it? Come back to me. Whatever I did, I—I’ll not d-do it again.”

“It’s not you,” he rasped, thrusting his hands into his hair and making hard fists, glad of the pain, because he hoped it would clear his head. His throat felt as if it were being vised by a hangman’s noose. “I . . . can’t . . . do . . . this,” he squeezed out. And then, as if driven by a demon within him, he threw back his head and screamed the words. “I can’t do this, damn you!” He heard Nan’s frightened gasp and saw her recoil as words boiled past his lips. “I
won’t
do this! It’s a bargain with the devil I’ve made! Do you hear me! I’m done with it!”

A jolt shot through Nan’s body as Gabriel left the room and slammed the door behind him. The portal hit its frame with such force the walls vibrated. She heard his feet pounding down the stairs. Breathing fast, her body still thrumming with yearning, she sat up slowly, so astounded—no,
stunned
—that her brain felt frozen. Then the reality of the situation slowly sank in. She’d just offered herself to the man she loved, and he’d turned her down flat.

Nan didn’t cry. The pain that lacerated her chest ran so deep it made her bones ache.
Gabriel.
She hugged her arms around her waist and slowly started to rock, so tortured with myriad emotions—pain, bewilderment, and a sick sense of rejection—that she wanted to scream, but she had no voice. The silence of the room, broken only by the incessant ticking of the alarm clock, pounded against her ears. Her eyes remained dry, burning in their sockets like smoldering coals. Love, she realized, wasn’t always a priceless gift; sometimes it was a person’s worst agony.

•   •   •

Gabe went to the livery, threw a saddle on Brownie, and sent the horse down the silent street at breakneck speed to get out of Random. He didn’t know where he meant to go, just that he needed to escape. The hard blowing of the gelding finally forced Gabe to slow the pace to a walk, and then, his head so muddled he couldn’t reason past the tangle of his thoughts, only lifelong habit made him continue at that speed to cool down his mount.

When Brownie’s lathered neck finally dried, Gabe drew the horse to a stop and swung down from the saddle. He left the gelding’s reins to dangle, not really caring if the horse spooked and ran. Not that Brownie would ever hare off and leave. Over the last ten years, the equine had been Gabe’s only true friend, ever faithful, never faltering.

This far from town, beyond even the farms that skirted the community, Gabe knew he could scream at the top of his lungs and be heard by only the horse and wild critters. And that was precisely what he did—scream. The immeasurable anger that churned within him was impossible to contain, and the worst part of all was that Gabe didn’t know for sure with whom he was most furious, the angels or himself.

“I’m finished!” He yelled the words with such rage that the tendons along his throat stung. “The deal is off!” When he heard no response, he doubled his fist and punched at the darkening sky. “I was a fool to agree to your terms in the first place! I’m not
saving
Nan! I’m destroying her! Breaking her heart! Ruining her life!” Heaving for breath, Gabe stood with his feet spread and his head hanging back to glare at the sky. Brownie cocked his ears at his master. Gabe ignored the horse’s mildly astonished expression. “Gabriel! Do you hear me?” he roared. “Dammit,
answer
me! To
hell
with my mission! I quit! I don’t
care
! Just do like you said you would if I mucked this up and erase her memory!
Now!
She’s hurting! Do you understand that?” He stared wildly around to see if the angel was going to materialize but saw only a startled-looking prairie dog peering cautiously at him, his head and forepaws poked out of his hole. Somehow that made him even madder. He’d never liked being ignored, even by an angel.

“You listen to me, dammit, Gabriel! I let her fall in love with a
lie
! I set her up to break her heart! She believed it could be
forever
, that if she let herself care, I’d always be there for her! But that’s not the way of it. I don’t have a lifetime to give her, only three miserable days!”

Silence answered him. The prairie dog vanished. The gloaming began to deepen, and Gabe started to panic. Where the hell was Gabriel? Why wasn’t he at least answering? Gabe didn’t care if all the fury of heaven rained down on him; he was reneging on the deal, finished, done.

Exhaustion finally drove him toward a boulder, where he sat and hung his head. He’d yelled himself out. Darkness settled over the rolling, grassy landscape, making Gabe feel like a tiny speck in its vastness. His throat felt raw. The bite of the wind cut through his shirt, chilling him to the bone. Soon not even a star winked to brighten the darkness. Brownie came to nuzzle at his shoulder, his warm breath somehow making Gabe feel less alone. He hugged the horse’s silky neck, pressing his cheek against the animal’s solid reality. The gelding chuffed, gave Gabe a gentle bump, and moved away.

“I don’t understand,” Gabe whispered. “Why’d you send me here?
Why?
A second chance, you told me.” He searched the endless expanse of sky. “I was supposed to get it all right this time. Only, the truth of it is, by following your damned rules, all I did was make the same mistakes all over again. Guard my own back, save my own ass; those were always my mottoes. And that hasn’t changed. It’s still all about saving myself.”

Gabe listened to the low moan of the night wind, the swishing whispers of countless blades of grass, the faint grinding sound of Brownie’s jaws as he snatched a few mouthfuls of prairie grass. The horse’s teeth clanked slightly against the bit as he chewed. And then a truly
horrible
thought struck Gabe: What if he had imagined it all? What if he’d never taken that predawn walk up Main and been shot dead? What if Pete Raintree didn’t even exist? That first morning, Gabe had toyed with the idea that he might have had too many whiskeys the prior night and somehow injured his head. Only the angel Gabriel’s rebuttal on the boardwalk in front of the hotel had driven that suspicion from Gabe’s mind.

But what if the angel hadn’t been
real
? What if everything Gabe believed he’d experienced had never happened? Was his mind playing tricks on him?

No, no. That couldn’t be right, Gabe assured himself. He couldn’t have conjured up all those details about Nan’s past without help. He’d known too much, things no one could possibly learn, not even if he hired the best agents available and had them investigate Nan for years. Gabe recalled the scenes he’d witnessed through the parting of the clouds, and he knew, way deep inside, that he couldn’t have dreamed all those details. In person, he’d never yet seen Nan half-dressed, but he was willing to bet she had a dark little freckle or mole on the swell of her right breast.

He slowly released a weary breath. Clearly neither angel planned to communicate with him. Why, he couldn’t imagine. He’d just scotched the bargain, and now, unless they reined him in, he would, in a sense, be like a runaway horse, unpredictable and without direction. Maybe he’d automatically damned himself through both his actions and his screaming that the deal was off. He’d certainly yelled loud enough for his words to echo for miles.

So be it.
Gabe pushed up from the rock, stood gazing at the sky for several seconds to give his celestial mentors a final chance to speak, and then strode to his horse.
Fine
, he thought as he swung back into the saddle.
Leave me to muddle through on my own. If that’s your plan, then I’m doing this my way from here on out. And I’m starting with Nan. Even if she doesn’t believe me and thinks I’m crazy, I’m telling her the truth, every last bit of it.

As Gabe rode toward Random, at a much slower pace this time, he wondered if Nan would even know him now. The angels had promised that they’d erase her memory if he messed up. And he’d sure as hell messed up. She was
not
supposed to be hurt. The thought that Nan might not recognize him stabbed Gabe’s heart. But, hey, it wasn’t as if he could offer her anything. Three lousy days. In a way, he’d be relieved—at least for her—if she remembered nothing about him.

Now he had to figure out how to approach her so that if she knew him, he wouldn’t ram his boot into his mouth any farther than he already had, but not scare the crap out of her if her memory had been erased.
Great choices here, Gabriel.
Gabe hoped the angels were having themselves a good laugh.

•   •   •

When Nan grew upset, she worked. It was her way of escaping—losing herself in a project, finding calm in the mindless rhythm of simply doing, and blocking out whatever pained her. From long habit, she had done that this evening, seeking refuge in her project room downstairs. She had three hats in progress, and the dratted gown for Geneva. She couldn’t face that hideous gown tonight, so she gravitated toward a particularly challenging hat, which begged for something—a different angle with the arrangement, a focal point of color, or perhaps a complete new start.

Normally, growing immersed in her work lulled Nan into a numb state, compartmentalizing her mind so that her emotions were tucked neatly away in a corner. Not tonight. Her husband’s eyes, the memory of those burning kisses, the feel of his arms crushing her close, refused to be dislodged by bits of millinery. She stabbed her fingertip with a pin and bled on a flower. The appearance of the hat frustrated her so much that she ended up tearing everything off it. And then, after fussing with it for well over two more hours, she finally gave up.

What she needed was a good long cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. She recalled hearing or reading that some heartbreak ran too deep for tears. And the pain she felt over Gabriel ran very deep. She’d sworn never to love a man, and fool that she was, she’d gone and done it anyway. If she lived to be a very old woman, she would never forget the humiliation she’d felt when he sprang away from her.
Just deserts.
Any woman who lost her heart to a man was asking for grief. Now she had to pick up the pieces, glue them back together, and move forward. If she couldn’t do it for herself, she had to do it for Laney.

With a start, she remembered that the boy and dog hadn’t yet been fed. Dark and late though it now was, she couldn’t leave them to go hungry all night. Glad to have something, anything, to distract her from thoughts of Gabriel, she rushed upstairs, rifled through the icebox, and found enough leftover food to fill both of their bellies.
Champion.
This way, she wouldn’t have to cook when the mere thought of eating made her stomach clench. She prepared sandwiches for the boy, filled a bottle with milk, and tossed what remained into the pail.

When she stepped from her shop, a rush of uneasiness came over her. A lady should never walk about town unescorted after dark. It could be dangerous, especially near the saloon.
Stuff and nonsense.
She would make fast work of delivering a meal to the boy and be gone in a blink. If some drunk did start down the brothel stairway, she’d be out of sight before he ever gained the walkway. As for going out behind Lizzy’s, Nan thought that would be safe enough. No miscreant was likely to be sharing the lean-to with a dog.