Betting the Rainbow (Harmony) (20 page)

When she stepped into the third floor’s only room, she saw what must be his space. Equipment sat around. Special backpacks designed with oxygen masks. Books and manuals were also scattered on the floor, some with pages blowing in the breeze. When he’d said he lived in only a few rooms of the house, she hadn’t thought that they would be the kitchen and third floor.

Only this room didn’t look like a home, even a vacation one. It looked more like a barracks, or a lair for a warrior about to leave again to fight. Nothing about the room reminded her of the man, or even the boy who’d stayed here once. She got the feeling that if Austin never returned, nothing personal would need to be boxed and sent to him.

A shadow moved past the window. Someone had to be walking around outside on the widow’s walk, and no one was here but Austin.

Ronny stepped out one of the long windows and saw him standing, looking out toward the lake. It wasn’t safe here. The railing was little more than knee high. If he tripped, he’d fall two floors.

“Austin,” she said softly. “You all right?”

“You left.” He didn’t look at her. “That man came up and you walked off without saying a word to me.”

She moved a few feet toward him. “I’ve mentioned Mr. Carleon. He wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t needed to talk to me.” She wasn’t sure she liked this Austin. He was right, she hadn’t said good-bye. She hadn’t thought she’d be gone more than a few minutes, but still it didn’t seem something to get angry about.

The man before her seemed angry and brooding.

“Are you mad at me?” If he was, over something so small, logic told her to run. This man who put down no roots, who left his mark on nowhere he’d been, would probably never be what she needed.

Deep down inside, Ronny admitted exactly what she needed and never had. She needed a forever man. Not a man who set her blood on fire, but a man who’d be there when she needed him. Who’d sleep with her every night. Who’d hold her when she was happy and sad. Who would never, ever yell at her.

Austin might not be that kind of man. He might never be. People change, but could he change that much?

He touched his leg as if rubbing away pain. “Of course I’m not mad. I was worried when I heard an engine fire up. Thought you might be taking the old guy back across the lake. I thought I could see you if I came up here, but it must have been the ATV you started because your boat never moved out on the water.”

“You were worried about me?” Worry she could accept. Anger she couldn’t.

“No. I’m sure you can take care of yourself. I just . . . Hell, can we drop this whole conversation?” He moved toward her, balancing every other step with his hand on the roofline.

“Sure, I don’t understand it anyway.” She guessed between the two of them they barely had the skills to communicate with guppies, much less another human.

“If you hear another engine, it’s me. This Thursday I’m flying off to attend a wedding and I don’t think I’ll be back for three or four days.”

“Have a good time.” He didn’t sound like he cared one way or the other. “I’ll be fine here. I don’t really need any watching after, and you’ve left enough food for months in my refrigerator.”

Suddenly Austin was back to being a stranger. After he’d held her so tenderly last night and kissed her so passionately a few times before, now she felt like she didn’t even know him.

In silence he moved slowly back down the stairs. He didn’t seem to know what to say any more than she did.

Ronny cleaned up the picnic they’d had on the porch. When she came back in, he was reading.

“You want to play some cards?”

“No,” he answered.

“TV?”

“No. Thanks for bringing the food. I’ll be fine.”

She could walk away. She didn’t need moody. They were both people who liked solitude; wishing something more had happened between them was crazy. She should just walk away and drop off food tonight on the doorstep.

But something that Mr. Carleon had said stopped her. Austin Hawk was a good man fighting his way back from terrible times. His words had made him an easy man to walk away from, but he’d be a hard man to forget.

Somewhere inside this hard man was the man who’d held her close all night. The man who worried about her. The man who cared.

Ronny walked to his chair and sat down on the arm. “Then there is only one thing to do,” she said as she leaned over and kissed him hard on the mouth. When he didn’t move, she cupped his face and kissed him again.

For a second, he didn’t react, and then he pulled her onto his good leg and crushed her against him.

She’d found the one thing he wanted to do. His kiss was full-out, no-holds-barred passion.

Exactly what she wanted. If what they had together was going to end, she wanted to end with a memory she could carry always.

They needed to concentrate on communicating in other ways besides talking. She dug her fingers into his hair and held on tight as his hands slid over her back and hips, pressing her to him as he leaned back in the recliner with her on top of him.

Several minutes passed before he broke the kiss and smiled at her. “You finally figured out what I wanted.”

She leaned against his shoulder. “What was that?”

“You attacking me. No matter how I fight to keep from touching you, I always surrender when you come to me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to kiss me?”

He shook his head. “I guess I didn’t know how. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised you even like me enough to speak to me.” He kissed the top of her head. “When you press against me, it blows my mind, but I want you to know, you’re welcome any time.”

“Again,” she said, straightening as she lowered her mouth to his. With her mouth brushing his, she whispered, “Why don’t we put off talking until we get tired of doing this.”

“That’s not happening, pretty lady.”

As evening cooled the air, they learned that as long as they were touching they had no problem communicating.

Chapter 33

TRUMAN FARM

R
EAGAN SPENT THE DAYS AFTER THE POKER GAME GETTING
her orchard back in order. She moved between the apple trees and back and forth from the house to the barn with Utah strapped in front of her. As always, she found her peace in the orchard. Trumans held to their land, Uncle Jeremiah had always told her.

With Noah gone, she felt the land was all she had left to hold on to. The apple business had been good to her over the past few years. With planning, she’d always have the farm and the trees. As long as she had a home, she could weather any storm and she could take care of Utah if she needed to.

Thanks to the Internet, she’d bought everything for him. In only a few weeks he’d grown to the point that nothing Maria had brought that first day fit. He needed clothes and furniture, swings and bouncy chairs, toys. She needed books and bottles and special soap. The list seemed endless.

Maria called often and dropped by to help, but Reagan rarely left the baby with her. She set up a crib for his naps in her office and worked around his schedule.

Everyone said she was getting thin, working too hard. She couldn’t tell those who cared about her that the baby and the work were saving her. Helping her to be too busy to realize that her heart had broken. Several times a day she thought of Noah, and just the knowledge that she couldn’t call him stabbed at her heart.

Now and then someone would mention that Noah was still in town. He was living out at his run-down ranch, cleaning up the place. It wasn’t far from her farm. She could have easily driven over to see what work he’d done. But there was no reason to go past his ranch. Noah was out of her life. This was the way she wanted it. The way it had to be for her to survive.

Reagan told herself she didn’t care, but some nights she’d look in his direction and think she could almost see a light shining from his old place. The McAllen ranch had the best sunsets, her uncle said once. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see it again from his ranch.

On the second Sunday after he’d left, the old pickup he’d driven when they were in high school turned off Lone Oak Road and headed in her direction.

Reagan watched him coming from the second-story window, and for a moment she felt like she’d stepped back in time. He was a skinny kid again and she was a runaway trying to fit in. Noah was coming over to pick her up so they could drive over to some little rodeo, eat dinner from a taco truck parked out by the arena, and hope he won enough money to buy malts for the ride home.

Only that was years ago and nothing was the same now except the old truck kicking up dust on her drive.

The cowboy who stepped out was Harmony’s Noah, her Noah. Not the rodeo star with a spotless white hat and hand-tooled leather boots. Not the man living life high and wild. But just Noah in jeans and a shirt that looked well worn. She couldn’t help but think he still looked like a western hero stepping out of an old dime novel.

He stood by his truck for a while, as if expecting shots to be fired from her porch. He’d told her once that he’d grow up to be good looking, and he had. Tall and lean with a smile that used to light up her world.

Finally, she walked out on the porch and waited to see what he planned to say.

He sauntered up slowly, like a man unsure of his direction. He was tanned darker by the sun than she’d seen him in a long time. His hair was a bit too long. His boots scuffed and worn. Noah, the guy who’d done ninety percent of the talking since they’d met, didn’t say a word. He just stood there in front of her as if waiting for another blow to knock him down.

“Your spark plugs need changing,” she said calmly. “I could hear the engine missing even when you turned off Lone Oak Road.”

He offered a sad smile. “Your uncle told me that one of the first times I came by. He thought you were too young to go with me.”

“I was.” She remembered how frightened she’d been that he might turn into a monster after dark. “But he didn’t try to stop me, just fixed your truck so we’d be able to make it home.”

Memories drifted around her. Her uncle complained about Noah for a year, but he never failed to tell her to “feed the boy” or “tell the kid to make sure he gets you back on time.”

“I miss you, Rea.” Noah finally broke the silence.

She couldn’t speak. She just waited.
Missing
seemed too small a word to hold how lonely she felt.

“I haven’t had a drink since Big knocked me out. I’m not going back to the rodeo circuit. Those days are over.” He looked down at his boots as if trying to remember a speech. “I’ve been fixing up my old place. It still looks like hell, but Tannon Parker said he’d start hauling in the cattle I bought next week. Thought I’d start with a hundred head and work my way up.”

“Why are you here, Noah?”

He looked down at his feet again. “I’d like to see the baby. If he’s mine, I want to claim him. None of this is his fault.”

She nodded. “Wait out here. I’ll go get him.”

When she returned, Noah was sitting in the west-facing chairs. She put Utah in his arms and stepped away.

It was too hard to watch. Reagan walked back inside and forced herself not to look out the window. She knew Noah loved kids. He was always telling stories about what one of his cousin’s kids did. Or at least he used to love children. Reagan felt like she barely knew the man sitting in her front yard.

When she heard Utah cry, Reagan rushed toward the door.

Noah was standing there looking helpless. “I think he’s wet or hungry. I don’t know. He’s just not happy. I even tried singing to him.”

“That probably made him mad. You can’t sing,” she said as she took the baby.

“I can’t? Wish someone had told me. I’ve been singing for years.”

“Believe me, Noah, we’ve all tried.”

He looked like he was in deep thought. “That may explain why nobody ever passed me a hymnal in church.”

She wasn’t falling for his charm. “I think the baby may be wet. I usually change him and then feed him a bottle as we watch the sunset.”

Reagan held the fussy baby, but she didn’t invite Noah in.

“Do you think I could come back some sunset and feed him?”

“All right.” Reagan closed the door without saying good-bye.

Noah stood on the porch staring at a door he’d felt comfortable just walking through for years. But not now.

He’d worked till he dropped every day and he still couldn’t sleep. Now Rea wouldn’t even talk to him.

Walking back to his truck, he had no idea how to fix what he’d broken, but he wasn’t sure he could live without her.

No matter how long it took, he’d keep trying.

Chapter 34

DELANEY FARM

D
USTI DROVE INTO TOWN TO MAIL ANOTHER SET OF PHOTOS
to Kieran O’Toole. This would be the fourth and last installment of what she called her Living in Harmony series. She’d had great fun with the old camera he’d said belonged to his dad. Something about looking at the world with a camera in her hands made everything seem different, far more interesting, a wonder in her everyday world.

She hadn’t known how much she missed it until now.

In every packet she mailed to New York City, she included a letter thanking him for all his help and telling him she was counting down the days until the trip to Vegas. She and Abby had repacked her suitcase half a dozen times trying to decide just what she should take. This tournament was relatively small compared to all the others in Las Vegas, but the money was great; all she had to do was place in the money. Even the lowest money win would be enough to send Abby back to school.

In truth, she’d been so busy taking the pictures she hadn’t thought much about the game. Her win was all that the folks in town talked about, and if possible that made her more nervous than anything else. Everyone was counting down the days with her.

Mrs. Mills, Kieran’s granny, even answered the door for her weekly egg delivery by saying, “Five more days, Dusti. Five more days. Are you excited?”

“Of course,” Dusti answered, feeling more fear than excitement. “I just dropped some eggs by and wondered if Kieran had called to tell you he got my pictures. Our phones at the farm aren’t dependable.”

“No, dear, he hasn’t called, but I’m sure he will. Do you have time to come in for a glass of tea?”

Dusti wanted to dart back to her truck now that she’d found out what she needed to know, but the old lady was too sweet to disappoint, so she nodded and followed her to a kitchen that hadn’t been remodeled in fifty years.

As they drank sweet tea, Dusti searched for something to say. “I guess you know your grandson taught me to play poker. That’s why I won the other night.”

“I know, dear. He’s pretty good at the game. Never could beat me, though.”

Dusti’s eyes widened. “You taught him to play?”

“Sure. I had to do something with him every summer, and I’m not one for baseball. Back years ago, my husband always played on Friday nights. I decided if I wanted to keep up with my man’s night out with the boys, the easiest way was to become the dealer. So I set up a table in the backyard and made sweets. Even when my husband suggested changing locations, none of the other men would hear of it.” She grinned. “They liked my sweets.”

Dusti laughed. “Mrs. Mills, you’re brilliant.”

“I am, dear.” She laughed. “Want me to get out the cards and show you a few secrets? I didn’t watch men play for twenty years without learning a few tricks, along with the recipes, of course.”

Dusti almost jumped out of her chair and hugged the woman. No one at the game had been as good as Kieran, and she’d just found his master.

Mrs. Mills stood and pulled her phone from her apron pocket. “Mind if I call my friend? She always plays. Didn’t win as often as I did, but picked up two husbands at the poker table.”

“Of course. I’d love to meet her.”

When Mrs. Mills produced the deck from her hutch drawer, she added, “These lessons don’t come free. I’ll expect pecans with those eggs every week come fall. One week’s delivery for each lesson. Fair enough?”

“You got yourself a deal.”

The doorbell rang. Dusti waited in the kitchen, but she could hear the laughter.

“When you called, I dropped everything and came right over. The girls are riding again,” the newcomer announced.

Both women laughed as they moved into the kitchen.

Dusti stood and turned to face Martha Q Patterson, the owner of the town’s bed-and-breakfast.

“Morning, Mrs. Patterson,” Dusti said, thinking of all the wild stories she’d heard about Martha Q and her seven husbands.

“Call me Martha Q. If you’re sitting down to play poker with us, you’re sitting down as an equal. We’ll try not to take advantage of you.”

Mrs. Mills nodded. “If either of us had decided to play in that game at the Truman farm, you wouldn’t be packing your bag.” She winked as if she were teasing, but Martha Q added “amen” like it was the gospel truth.

Dusti found it hard to believe that Kieran’s sweet little granny was friends with a woman who folks used to claim had slept with every man in town. And that there were cardsharps in a town of goldfish.

Mrs. Mills patted Martha Q’s hand. “Now, we’re not playing for money today. We’re here to help this girl learn to play in Las Vegas. She’s not going into a friendly kitchen game, she’s going into the lion’s den, and no one, including my grandson, can prepare her for that game but you and me.”

“Does anyone in Harmony know that you two have played in Vegas?” Dusti found it almost impossible to believe they’d kept such a secret for so many years.

“No one alive.” Martha Q winked.

“You killed them?”

Both women laughed. “No, dear,” Mrs. Mills said. “We outlived them.”

“Before I play with you, Dusti Delaney, you have to swear you’ll never tell anyone about this game. You’ll go to your grave with our secret.” Martha Q shrugged. “I don’t much care about it myself. I start half the rumors about me, but Mrs. Mills is a lady. A very proper Methodist to boot. I wouldn’t want people talking about my friend.”

“How long have you two been friends?”

Both shrugged. Finally, Martha Q answered, “More years than I admit to being alive.”

Dusti raised her hand, loving that she’d stumbled onto such a secret. “I swear.” Even if she thought about telling somebody, no one would believe her.

“Then let’s play some poker.”

Three hours later Dusti left with a loaf of Mrs. Mills’s banana bread and a few secrets of the game. She might not be able to reach Kieran, but at least she was still learning. A few more lessons and she just might have a chance at getting into the finals.

On the drive home she laughed about all the stories she’d heard. The two had once run off to Vegas when they were in their fifties. Mrs. Mills was newly widowed and Martha Q was between husbands.

They’d slipped away, both telling lies as to where they were going. Mrs. Mills had won so much cash they’d been afraid to leave the casino. Martha Q had stuffed the cash in her bra while Mrs. Mills ran to get the car. Every man in the place tried to pick Martha Q up on her way out.

Martha Q claimed secret friends are far better than secret lovers, and Dusti had no doubt it was true. They’d stood beside each other through marriages, deaths, and rumors.

When all this was over and Abby had gone off to school, Dusti planned to spend her one night a month out at Mrs. Mills’s house. Playing cards with her and Martha Q was far more fun than playing games at Buffalo’s Bar and taking a chance at going home with a crazy cowboy who didn’t stay till dawn.

She laughed as she turned onto Rainbow Lane, remembering how she’d asked Martha Q if she’d ever waited for the right man to come along.

Martha Q had answered, “Yes, and he did, several times.”