Another Dawn (12 page)

      
A mirror.

      
Light. She needed more light. With her right hand, she brushed the wall beside the door several times, sensing there should have been a switch there. She knew it, though she didn't know why she knew it. Her gaze drifted across the high ceiling, finding no source for additional light, even if she'd found a switch.

      
Frustrated, she retrieved the lamp from the nightstand and carried it to the low dresser beneath the mirror. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she turned up the wick until the golden light grew somewhat brighter.

      
Her mouth went dry as she lifted her chin to look into the mirror, fearing who she might find staring back from the silver surface. She gasped, seeing herself for the first time she could remember. The light sent her features into sharp relief, light and shadow contrasting harshly on the stranger's face.

      
Her face.

      
"How do you do, Sofie?" she whispered, reaching out to touch her reflection. Wild, dark curls framed her small face and fell to her shoulders in back. So that was what Mrs. Fleming had meant about Sofie's hair being in utter chaos.
 

      
Her ears were small and flat against her head, with a gold hoop in one lobe. "I lost an earring."
 
She touched her naked lobe, then noted the purple bruise on that side of her head, spreading toward her eye. Gingerly, she probed her injury, realizing how lucky she was not to have lost something much more significant than an earring.

      
Like her life.

      
But in a way she
had
lost her life. At least the life she'd known before today.

      
She turned down the lamp and placed it back on the nightstand. The bed looked clean and inviting, but her clothes were too filthy to climb between the sheets.

      
The mere thought of sliding her exhausted body into bed made her shudder with longing. She'd have to sleep in her undies. After all, Mrs. Fleming had promised Sofie a bath and clean clothes in the morning.

      
She pulled off her soiled clothing and left it in a pile near the door. Again, she looked at the strange woman in the mirror. No bra, small breasts and white panties with red hearts.

      
Mrs. Fleming won't approve.

      
Too exhausted to ponder the possible ramifications of Mrs. Fleming choosing her wardrobe, Sofie left the lamp burning low and climbed beneath the quilt. The clean sheets felt wondrous against her bare skin, and the quilt offered welcome warmth.

      
"Dear God, what am I going to do?" she prayed.

      
Fear and misery had been painful.

      
Hiding happiness was pure hell.

      
After playing the role of priest for Fanny Judson's funeral, all Luke wanted was to run through town, shouting to the world that he was free. No one was hunting him, and no one knew about his past.

      
But even in his state of shock-turned-ecstasy, Luke knew such a display of unadulterated happiness would be bad form in the midst of a smallpox epidemic and countless funerals. Very bad indeed.

      
Though he truly did feel for Zeke's loss and Fanny's death, Luke struggled to restrain himself. Darkness was nearly upon them by the time he bid Fanny's mourners good-bye and escaped their presence.

      
No one guarded him now, and no rifles demanded his continued cooperation. He could walk away from Redemption anytime he chose, but even more importantly, he
didn't
have to run or hide ever again.

      
The possibilities were endless. He could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, and be anyone he wanted.
Free, free, free!

      
Elated, confused and exhausted, he headed back toward the schoolhouse, wanting to check on Sofie. She alone held the power to tarnish his newfound happiness, but he still couldn't shake that nagging sense of responsibility.
 

      
Of course, if he disappeared by morning, it wouldn't matter how much Sofie ever remembered, because he'd be long gone and could even use a new name if he chose. No one would ever know.

      
He walked behind the schoolhouse and into a pine grove, inhaling the sweet air and looking up at the darkening sky. For the first time in eleven years, he could go anywhere he chose, whenever he wanted. Or not.

      
Simultaneous joy and terror rippled through him and the exhaustion he'd battled all day struck without warning. Staggering, he made his way to a fallen log and pulled Father Salazar's robe closer to his half-naked, burned skin.

      
"Free," he whispered, folding his arms across his chest and trying to concentrate through the fog of fatigue. That meant he had important decisions–real choices–to make.

      
Stay and help Sofie, satisfying his illogical notion that he was somehow responsible for her? Or leave Redemption, Sofie, and his memories of Father Salazar far behind to begin his life anew?

      
He could go to Denver, then catch a train somewhere. California, maybe?

      
An owl hooted overhead as darkness gathered. Stars blanketed the sky, appearing in magical clusters sprinkled across a bed of black velvet.

      
He drew another deep breath of the rapidly cooling mountain air. The Nolans had lived in Colorado since his great-great-grandparents arrived from Ireland. Still looking at the stars, he wondered if he would meet his ancestors one day. Obviously, he couldn't tell them his true identity–not that they'd believe him–but just to meet them would be an incredible experience.

      
And Grandpa...would Luke live long enough to see him again?

      
His gut burned as if he'd swallowed battery acid.

      
"You killed your grandfather with shame, Luke,"
Grandma had said.
 

      
There was nothing he could do to change his past–or future, such as it was. Luke Nolan would follow Ricky-No-Name into that liquor store and be tried and convicted of murder.

      
Would or had? The paradox was almost comical, though Luke wasn't laughing now.

      
He mustn't dwell on his past...or future past. Whatever. He was alive and he was free. Nothing else mattered.

      
Struggling to his feet, Luke yawned and stretched, his body protesting the movement. Soon his skin would start to peel and his hair would grow back. Wouldn't it? Sofie would undoubtedly be surprised by his transformation, especially upon learning he wasn't a priest.

      
Definitely not a priest. Luke Nolan was a man with a man's needs and desires, compounded by more than a decade of total deprivation.

      
Banishing thoughts of unfulfilled desire, Luke stared through the darkness with narrowed eyes. A square of golden light spilled from a window at the back of the schoolhouse. Sofie was in there somewhere. Was she all right? That bruise on her head was pretty nasty. He should check on her before turning in for the night, assuming he could find a bed somewhere.

      
Slowly, he trudged toward the back door. He'd ask for a place to sleep, and if the people of Redemption wanted him to perform any other priest-like duties tomorrow, he would. Then he'd begin his new life as a free man.
 

      
Soon. Very soon.

      
Was that his decision? He couldn't be sure. Too much had happened today to permit him to make a rational decision about anything. He'd almost died and been thrown back in time. Enough excitement for one day.

      
The golden glow of the window next to the back door lured him, and Luke found himself peering between the ruffled lace curtains, even as he reached for the door handle.

      
Sofie.

      
Sleeping on her side, her dark hair made a dramatic contrast against the snowy sheet. She was so pale, nearly as white as the bedding. He'd noticed earlier how tiny she was, especially when he'd carried her through the raging storm to shelter.
      
      

      
The memory of how she'd felt in his arms then stole his breath now. He could almost feel her again, and he reached up to rub his palm against the rough door as if to remind himself he no longer held her softness in his lap.

      
But his body responded as hungrily to the memory as it had to the real thing. He wanted to hold her again. Hell, he wanted to do much, much more....

      
The heat of desire created a startling contrast with the brisk night air. Luke's breath came out in a white cloud as he stood there staring. And dreaming.

      
He swallowed hard and pressed his fist into his palm. Eleven years in prison without a woman, and she'd been an inexperienced teenager like himself. Of course he wanted a woman. Any woman.

      
No, not any woman. At least, not yet.

      
As he watched her sleep, he recognized an invisible bond or force reaching out from Sofie and extending toward him. He wanted to deny it–he
should
deny it.

      
But he couldn't.

      
In that moment, Luke knew his path. Part of it anyway. He wouldn't leave town until he knew for certain Sofie was safe. Never again would he have guilt as his relentless companion. At least, he told himself that was the only reason he felt responsible for Sofie.

      
She rolled onto her back and the quilt slipped from her shoulder.

      
Her bare shoulder.

      
His gaze drifted along the creamy curve of exposed skin to where the side of her breast rose. Tempting. The sheet draped over her nipple, catching and shielding that part of her from his hungry, all-consuming gaze.

      
Get a grip, man
. He closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself of his temporary role here in Redemption. Voyeur didn't fit his job description.

      
When he reopened his eyes, he frowned, noticing her bruised temple and the jagged gash that had bled so copiously this morning. She'd almost died.

      
He'd
almost died.

      
Yet here they both were, alive and in another century. Together. Why?

      
Go with God, my son.

      
"Damn."

Chapter 5