Wildfire (15 page)

T
wo days later Rae parked in front of her office and stepped from the car.

Sweet heaven, she was tired. She couldn't remember ever being so tired.

Tanner hadn't been in town in days, and Rae assumed he was off somewhere with Lynda. The thought didn't bring either anger or pain. She was simply numb. Everything had shut off. She did her work mechanically. And that's the way she ate and slept and moved. It was a state she recognized. Rae was grieving, the same way she had grieved when Johnny died.

Before she reached the door to her office, Glenna opened it and grabbed her arm. "There's a range fire out at Lyle Summer's place, and it's a doozy.

It's already wiped out a third of his spread, and it's getting into the trees now."

Turning around, Rae moved quickly back toward the car. "We'd better take your car," she threw over her shoulder. "I don't think mine will make it over the rough ground out there. Just give me fifteen minutes to change my clothes."

When something like this happened, it showed the best of small-town life. Everyone pitched in and worked together. Everyone cared.

Rae and Glenna, along with a dozen other women from town, spent the next two days making sandwiches and dishing up stew, serving coffee and iced tea to the men who were fighting the fire. They came back with black faces and dry throats that told of the fiery landscape they had left behind.

Only once in those two days did Rae catch a glimpse of Tanner, and the minute he caught her watching him, he turned his back on her and walked away.

On the third day, after the men had gained a measure of control over the fire, Rae was serving coffee to a group of men who sat on the tailgate of one of the dozens of pickups parked in the field.

After she had filled their cups, she moved around to the side of the truck, and as she stooped over to pull a grass burr from the leg of her jeans she heard them talking.

"I'll say one tiling for him, no one here has worked harder to put out that fire."

Rae straightened but didn't move away. She knew without asking whom these men were talking about.

Another of the men made sounds of contempt. "He probably figures he needs to get used to the flames. He'll see enough of them in hell."

There was loud laughter, then the first man spoke again. "You're just sore because that little blonde out at the truck stop gets all flustered every time she sees him."

"You don't know nothing about nothing."

"I like him." This was a strong, quiet voice. "When that tornado took the roof off my barn, Tanner was there the next day, ready to help me get it all back together. He took my boy fishing a couple of times too."

"Well, saint or sinner, he's taking too many chances with that fire." The first man was speaking again. "He walks into it like he don't give a damn whether he comes out or not."

This wasn't the first time Rae had heard about Tanner's recklessness, and she was worried about him. Time after time, she watched the men come back to the field and others leave to take their places. But she hadn't seen Tanner in two days.

By late afternoon she couldn't stand it any longer. Wondering what he was doing, wondering if he was being as careless as everyone said.

After talking to one of the men, she left the field behind and headed into the blackened landscape. The small copse where she found him was bare of undergrowth. It had all burned away. Everything had burned away. In every direction she looked, there was nothing but black ash and burned limbs.

Tanner, his face and hands covered in grime, sat on ground, leaning against a charred stump, his eyes closed.

"I brought you something to eat," she said without preamble.

He opened his eyes, and for one brief instant she saw in their dark depths that old restless hunger, so overpowering, it took her breath away.

She had already taken a step toward him before she remembered the last time she had gone to him. Stopping abruptly, she bit her lip.

He glanced at the sandwiches and thermos in her hands. "Another good deed?"

"That's right," she said, placing the food on the ground beside him.

Now that she knew he was all right, there was no reason for her to stay, she told herself. No reason at all.

But even as she was turning away, his voice stopped her.

"I saw you with Drew yesterday," he said abruptly. "You were looking after a burn on his hand. You two look like you're getting pretty tight. I guess the unholy alliance worked after all. Drew's perfect for you. The only one qualified to sit at Siege Perilous."

She glanced over her shoulder, one brow raised in inquiry. "Siege Perilous?"

"The seat reserved for the knight destined to bring back the Holy Grail," he explained, his voice dry. "No one else can sit there. It would be fatal if they tried."

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, swallowing hard. "You want me to be with Drew?"

A couple of seconds passed before he answered her, then the only thing he said was, "Drew's a good man."

A stiff gust of wind blew a strand of hair across her face. Brushing it aside, she stared at him, her chest tight with unhappiness, "Yes, Drew's a good man, but—"

A cracking noise, as loud as a thunderclap, sounded directly over her head. She heard Tanner call her name, and in the next instant he was diving at her, shoving her out of the way.

Rae rolled on the ground and almost immediately was on her feet again, looking around frantically for Tanner. The tree that had fallen covered most of the small copse, its charred limbs spreading across the blackened ground.

"Tanner!" she yelled, pulling at the branches, swearing viciously when they broke off under her fingers.

"What is it? What are you doing?""

Suddenly Drew was beside her, trying to pull her away from the tree.

"Glenna told me you were out here. What are you doing?"

She shook off his hands with an impatient jerk of her shoulders. "Tanner's under here," she said, her voice tight as she pulled at more of the branches. "Tanner's caught under—"

"I'm all right."

His voice came from the other side of the tree. Scrambling over the trunk and through the protruding limbs, she caught a glimpse of his shirt. "Tanner!"

"I'm all right," he repeated, his voice irritable. "It just knocked the wind out of me. If you'll move this thing a little to the right, I can squeeze out."

Together, she and Drew managed to break away most of the limb that was pinning Tanner to the ground, and several minutes later he rolled out from under the tree.

Rae knelt beside him, touching him, reassuring herself that he wasn't hurt.

With something that sounded like a groan of pain, Tanner pulled away from her and rose to his feet. "I told you I'm okay," he said tightly. "A couple of scratches and bruises. No big deal." Without looking at her, he pushed a rough hand through his hair and muttered, "Better get back to it."

And then he walked away, leaving her on her knees, staring after him. ,

It was only when she felt a hand on her shoulder that Rae remembered Drew. Rising to her feet, she glanced at him and winced at the look of sympathy in his eyes.

"You love him, don't you?" When she didn't answer, his lips twisted in a crooked smile. "You should have seen how white you were when you thought he was hurt. You looked like death." Frowning, he turned his head in the direction Tanner had gone. "You don't know him, Rae. I don't guess anyone really knows Tanner, but we've been friends for a long time, and he's told me enough for me to know his mother twisted something inside him." He met her eyes, concern etched into his gentle face. "I know it hurts, but you're better off this way. Tanner would take you to hell with him."

She pressed a hand to her mouth, holding back the short, choked laugh. "Do you really think that scares me?" she whispered. "With Tanner? I would go, Drew. Willingly and without a backward glance."

❧

Tanner pulled his pickup out onto the highway and pressed his foot to the floor. The fire was well and truly out, but he didn't feel like hanging around, talking about it with the other men.

He didn't feel like much of anything. He couldn't stop thinking about Rae. He had been trying to stay out of her way, but that didn't stop the thoughts. The memories.

He wished he could really get something going with Lynda. Tanner had never been interested in the blonde, but he wished he could have made love to her, if only to wipe the night he had spent with Rae out of his memory. But he couldn't do it. Rae had a hold on him that was unbreakable.

He exhaled a slow, unsteady breath as he thought about the night they had spent together. He knew without a doubt that her Johnny had never been able to make her go wild like that. And Drew wouldn't be able to either. That part of her was only for Tanner.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

He never should have gotten involved with her. He knew it. He knew it from the beginning, but like an idiot, he went right ahead. He had wanted to punish her for the way she always looked at him, as though he didn't quite measure up. And he had wanted to see if he could shake her loose from her good-girl image. But the main reason Tanner had agreed to the lessons was that since the night he first saw her, he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. And since that first night, he had wanted her.

And now he was paying for his stupidity.

Pulling over to the side of the road, he rested his forearms on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. And as he stared, another memory came to him.

The year he had turned eight, the year after his father's last visit, Tanner had been invited to Lainie Browne's birthday party. It didn't matter that Lainie's mother had made her invite the whole class. Tanner had never been to a party before, and he didn't care why he had been invited.

He remembered ironing a white shirt, searching for a pair of jeans that didn't have a hole in the knees. And then he had walked to Lainie's house. It was all the way across town, but he didn't mind. He was going to a party.

It was only when he was inside her house, squeezed in with all the other kids, that he saw that everyone else was carrying a brightly wrapped package. They had all brought gifts. He felt stupid and crude for not knowing such a simple thing.

Tanner had brought nothing, and his hands felt awkward in their emptiness.

Moving slowly so as to draw no attention to himself, he backed quietly out of the room. The party wasn't for him. Tanner had nothing to offer.

Now, as he rested his chin on his hands, he gave a harsh laugh. It didn't take a psychologist to figure out why the memory came to him just now.

Although Drew was not good enough for Rae and never would be, he could at least give her what she was used to, what she deserved. Security. Peace of mind. Respectability. All wrapped up in bright, shiny paper.

The party wasn't for him. Because Tanner had nothing to offer.

❧

A week after the fire, on her way back from lunch, Rae heard that Old Joe had died of a stroke. It was only two months ago that she had sat in his office with him, going over his will, and she wondered if he had had some kind of premonition.
There's a damned epidemic of it. People dropping like flies.

Dicton wouldn't be the same without him. Drew would take over at Ashkelon, and although his would be a gentler reign, he would never have the personality of his father. Some of the wild flavor of Welch County was gone forever.

Joe had told her that he wasn't leaving Tanner much, and compared to Drew's inheritance it wasn't, but $200,000 was still a nice tidy sum. Enough—

Rae stopped in her tracks, feeling the blood drain from her face.

It was enough to allow him to follow his dream. Now that Joe was dead, Tanner was free to go.

She couldn't let it happen. Every night for a week, when she closed her eyes, she could see the look on his face that day she had found him sitting in the copse.

Tanner loved her. He might not want to love her, and he might be fighting against loving her. He might even be willing to make a mess of his life by denying his love for her, but Rae would be damned if she'd let him make a mess of hers as well.

❧

Tanner didn't look up when she parked her Volvo behind the horse trailer that was hooked up to his green pickup. He didn't look up until she stood beside him and watched him load another box into the bed of the pickup.

"I heard about Joe," she said, her voice soft and hesitant. "I'm sorry, Tanner. I know you cared about him."

After a moment he leaned against the truck and looked out across the range. "Just before he died, he reached out and grabbed my arm, and he looked at me. He didn't say anything, he just looked at me. And that was when I knew. I knew he was saying good-bye to me as a father says good-bye to a son." He sucked in a slow breath. "I wouldn't ever take anything away from Drew, but I knew then that I'd had the best of Joe. Much more than Drew ever had. Even when we argued, we understood each other. We communicated in a way he and Drew never had."

After a moment he pushed away from the cab. "Well, guess I better get—"

Rae panicked. He was going to just walk away again. He was going to leave her behind, the way he had been forced to leave so many things behind in his life.

Catching hold of his arm she said, "Not yet. There are . . . there are things that need to be said. Things between us that are still unresolved." She moistened her lips in a nervous gesture. "Remember when you said there was a wildfire in me? I didn't believe you then. But gradually, bit by bit, I began to see it, I began to feel it. And then, when we made love, I knew that part of me was finally out in the open. It was really there. It had always been there. But you're the only one who ever saw it, Tanner. The only one. Doesn't that make you stop and think? Doesn't it make you wonder why it's only there for you?"

"You're talking about sex, Rae. Sex is just—"

"No," she broke in. "No, you're wrong. Sex is part of it, but it's a symptom, a side effect of something larger."

He shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying. Why do we have to rehash this—"

"Because you're telling lies!"

She drew in a trembling breath. She had to stay calm, she told herself, wiping damp palms on her jeans. She was fighting for her life. She had to find a way to make him understand, to make him really hear what she was saying.

"Johnny was—"

"I don't want to hear about Johnny," he said, the words sharp.

"Well, that's too bad. You're going to hear about him. You see, I used to think I wanted to love someone the way I loved Johnny, but I was wrong. That isn't what I want at all. I want more. Much more."

"So why are you telling me this?" He sounded angry. And desperate to get away from her. "If you want more than Johnny Good-as-gold, you'd better look up at the big house."

"Loving Johnny was so easy," she said, her voice soft with remembered love. "In fact, I almost made a conscious decision to love him." She raised her eyes to his. "With you, the decision was taken out of my hands. I couldn't not love you. My love for Johnny was a carefree first love. My love for you hits deeper, it makes me feel more than I ever thought possible."

She moved a step closer. "Johnny added something wonderful to my life. But you . .. Tanner, you are my life."

His blazing eyes moved restlessly across her face. "You don't know what you're saying," he said in ragged whisper.

"I do. I do." She tightened her lips to steady them. "I know what forever means, Tanner. That was one of the requirements, remember? A woman who knows what forever means. Well, I know. Forever is you."

When he simply stood there staring at her, helpless rage rose inside her, and she hit him in the chest with a tightly clenched fist. "You bastard. How many times do I have to come to you on my knees? How many times do I have to swallow my pride . . . and beg you . . . and beg you to . . ."

"Don't." His face twisted as he reached out and pulled her into his arms. "Sweet heaven, Rae, don't cry like that. Don't, please. I'm sorry .. . I'm so sorry. I didn't—"

He broke off and framed her face with his hands. "You better mean this, Rae. No, listen to me. You better know what you're doing, because once I claim you, once I really make you mine, I won't ever be able to let you go. Not ever."

He was shaking all over, his fingers digging into her back. "I've spent every minute of the last few weeks telling myself not to fall for that hope-against-all-hope stuff again. Not this time, not when it was about you, not when it was more important than anything in my life."

"You stupid—" She broke off and shook her head. "Didn't you ever consider the possibility that I might feel the same way?"

His chin moved across the top of her head in short, rough strokes. "A couple of times I almost let myself wonder, but I stopped it before it got started." She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the ragged edges of leftover pain in his voice. "When I saw your car, I tried to tell myself you brought those out here because you're so damned nice. They were a gift to get me started on my dream."

He gave a choked laugh. "But I found out hope doesn't die that easy, not even in an outlaw."

Together they turned and looked at her car. Strapped to the top were two wooden rocking chairs.

Rae would be the woman, made special by his love, who sat beside him as they watched their children play.