Can't Stop Believing (HARMONY) (24 page)

“I don’t want to go in,” she whispered, almost like a child begging. “Take me flying, Cord, please. If you can spare the time?”

“Of course.” He lifted his arm and stretched it behind her shoulders. “I’ll be happy to. Maybe it will do us good to get away for an hour. I’ll take you up where the air is pure. I need to clear my head.”

Neither said a word as she drove to his place. He was surprised how clean the yard looked on his parents’ old farm. The road crew must have carried away some of the weeds and trash that had blown up with the last storm. The house almost looked lived in and not abandoned. Someone had even replaced the missing boards on the porch steps. The place had been his only home growing up, and he’d fought like hell the past three years to hang on to the farm, but nothing about the house drew him. No sense of coming home. No longing to be there. It was just a place where two quiet people lived with a son who never asked for much, even love.

Nevada parked beneath the old oak halfway between the house and the barn.

They pulled out his grandfather’s old plane and flew, crossing back and forth over their land. Now and then she’d tap him on the shoulder and point to something below she wanted him to see. The crops coming up, the cattle, her horses.

When they flew along the back of Britain property where the land was rocky and uneven, Cord noticed black spots in places, like shadows of clouds. Only the sky was clear. When he flew lower, he could tell the grass had burned. Maybe fires set by lightning and put out by the rain. Maybe not. Nevada didn’t comment on the charred spots, so Cord didn’t say anything, but he made a mental note to drive out as soon as the earth dried enough to cross open field.

His mind and body slowly relaxed as childhood memories of flying with his granddad drifted back. He’d let Cord fly the plane when he turned twelve and by sixteen he’d had his license. The old man moved into a home the next year, his body crippling with arthritis, his mind dulling.

Cord felt his grandfather’s loss. School, the farm, even his horse didn’t really matter once the old guy left. A few times Cord tried going to the nursing home to talk, but his grandfather was too drugged up. Each time less of the man he’d loved was there and only a shell remained.

Cord began to run with a wild crowd looking for excitement, looking to feel alive. He wasn’t old enough to understand why, but he knew he had to run fast because he’d seen what was coming at the end. One day his grandfather could fly and it seemed the next he couldn’t even feed himself.

Part of Cord was glad his grandfather didn’t know where he’d been headed that last summer. Gramps wouldn’t have been proud of him, and it would have torn Cord up to know he’d discovered his only grandson had gone to prison. Cord’s parents hadn’t even written to tell Cord of the old man’s death. Cord had read the Harmony paper’s obituary to learn the truth.

He’d written asking his father to save the plane for him.

His father had sent a note saying simply, “Will do.”

They’d never talked about it again, but the plane was waiting in the barn when Cord came home, the only thing that welcomed him. Flying now was like drifting through time, weightless among memories of the past.

When they finally touched down, he helped Nevada from the plane and couldn’t resist pulling her against him. He needed to hold on to someone, to her, to one spark of happiness in life while it still burned.

“You feel so good, Babe,” he whispered as he smelled the wind in her wild hair.

When he kissed her, it occurred to him that this was one less day they’d spend together.

The kiss deepened, not out of passion, or need, but just with the pure pleasure of knowing that she welcomed his touch. He knew she’d had many other lovers, but it didn’t matter; right now she was his.

When he finally lowered her feet to the ground, she smiled as if she understood how he felt. “Thanks for taking me away. It was nice.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime.” He took her hand and they headed toward the car.

A picnic basket sat on the farmhouse porch when they walked close. He wanted to keep her beneath his arm even though the day was more cool than cold, but Nevada laughed when she spotted the red basket and ran to open it like it was the first gift Christmas morning.

“Ora Mae must be getting used to the idea that she might need to find us now and then to feed us.” He watched Nevada pulling out food wrapped in plastic. “I feel like I’m a free-range diner around this place.”

“She probably didn’t notice we were back, since she’s always in the house, but I’ll bet Galem did. He’s the one who guessed where to leave the basket.” Nevada grinned. “I’m starving. Want to eat inside or out here?”

Cord didn’t care. He wasn’t ready to go back to the world just yet. Work, his and hers, could wait an hour. He liked having her all to himself. “It’s dusty in there.”

“Not on the bed,” she said, smiling as if she knew a secret.

He picked up the basket and followed her in and up the stairs to his old room. He moved through the shadows, watching her drop clothes as she rushed toward his bedroom. Her jacket, her shoes, her blouse. He barely noticed that someone had cleaned his room, adding fresh linens and a colorful bedspread.

“You been in here?” he managed to say as she unsnapped her skirt.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, stripping down to her bra and panties. “I thought we might want to use your place as our getaway cabin. Since we spent the afternoon here the other day I think of it as special, like an enchanted cottage where we are just ourselves and the world can’t interfere.”

He knew how she felt. The ranch house of hers seemed heavy with unhappy memories and stale like old velvet flowers in a winter window box.

She pulled the covers back and climbed in, standing on her knees to tell him, “I want to paint this room blue and maybe take out that wall so the upstairs area is one huge bedroom. Since college I’ve never had the opportunity to redecorate more than my study, but I didn’t figure you’d mind if I had some fun with your place. It’s a wonderful old house that’s got great bones.”

“I don’t care what you do around here. Knock yourself out.” He thought of his closet full of clothes he’d never have time to wear and figured he was releasing a monster. But she was a cute monster, especially in pale blue underwear with lace that almost wasn’t there.

“I’ve been thinking this place could be great with a few coats of paint and a dozen carpenters hammering away. We could knock out part of the roof and you’d have skylights over your bed. Then I’d start on the kitchen. Really could use some—”

“Hush, Babe. Talking time is over.” He pulled her to him as he popped the last button on his shirt. He needed them skin on skin. “We’ll talk while we eat, and we’ll eat later.” The sight of her body was driving him crazy.

Nevada giggled. “I thought you’d never take the hint.”

Hours later, Cord lay back watching moonlight drift through the cloudy sky. Nevada was curled against him fast asleep, wearing one of his old T-shirts they’d found in his drawer. They’d made a slow kind of love that drifted like a song, beautiful. Then they’d taken a shower together in the tiny bathroom off his room and eaten everything in the red basket as if they were starving. Still on the bed, huddled in blankets, they talked about everything and nothing.

All afternoon they touched, unable to get enough of each other. Maybe it was the fact that they’d been to the funeral, or maybe he was growing on her the way she was on him. Neither talked of love or forever. They wanted the now to stretch as long as it could.

Like a windup toy, she fell asleep in midsentence, not even noticing that he was still touching her, moving his hand beneath the covers and over her body.

“I can’t give you up,” he whispered as he kissed her hair.

He saw right through her tough-girl attitude and her temper tantrums. He saw the beauty of her, inside and out. The only problem was he couldn’t seem to figure out why she’d picked him. Right now
he
was the one thing in her world that didn’t make sense. She could have hired a foreman and bodyguards if she thought she needed them. Hell, she probably could have found a better lover than him.

He grinned suddenly, remembering how she couldn’t have had any complaints today. She’d dropped back on her pillows after they’d made love and demanded, “Just kill me now because it’ll never be any better than that.”

He’d laughed and promised to work on making her statement a lie.

Once she’d asked him if he’d forgive her anything, and he hadn’t known what to say. Now he knew he would. No matter how wild she’d been. No matter what she’d said or done. He’d forgive her. She didn’t even need to bother to ask. The lives they’d lived before didn’t matter, not when they were together like this.

Cord watched her sleep, wishing he could wake her and relive the afternoon. But the cell phone in his pocket buzzed before he could carry out his plan.

Rolling from the bed as carefully as he could, he pulled on his jeans and moved to the hallway.

“Hello,” he whispered.

“Cord,” a gravelly voice said. “I got some information.”

“What is it?” Cord moved down the stairs, wondering what Cameron had managed to find as he followed Bryce Galloway. Whatever the news, Cord knew it wouldn’t be good. Nothing about the guy was.

“I’ll show you if you can meet me at the theater after midnight. Come alone to the back door. I don’t want anyone to even know I know you.”

“I’ll be there,” Cord answered, and hung up knowing that his time in paradise was over.

He carried his sleeping wife home. He stayed in bed with her for more than an hour to make sure she was sound asleep, then finished dressing in the bathroom off the kitchen without waking Nevada. He had to handle this alone, and he knew he’d touch her if he went back in the bedroom they shared.

Cameron’s information might change everything. If Bryce Galloway was hurting Nevada, Cord wasn’t sure he could hold his rage.

A
PRIL
13

B
EAU
WOKE
F
RIDAY
MORNING
TO
THE
SMELL
OF
RAIN
AND
the constant beat of thunder rumbling in the background like a low drumroll.

“Beau?” Border yelled from the other bedroom. “Is it raining in your room?”

Beau sat up in bed and felt drops drip on his head and shoulders. “Yeah,” he said, knowing that Border could hear him through the thin walls. Indoor rain was one of the thousand complaints he had about this place.

Border showed up with their only two good pots. “I already used all the bowls for my room.”

They moved the bed and began to catch water in every container they could find. By eight the place had a tinkling sound like the opening to a children’s ballet. Beau covered the equipment with tarps, dressed in sweats, and talked Border into running across the creek to Martha Q’s place. It might be muddy, but Beau reasoned that it was half as far as using the road, so they’d only get half as wet.

Martha Q looked at them like they were two homeless wet dogs at her back door, but she let them in. “Take off your shoes and just drip there till I get some towels.”

“Thanks,” Border said, then took a deep breath as if he could smell a few hundred calories of breakfast cooking.

“I’ve been meaning to get that roof fixed, but I don’t think of it till it rains.” Martha Q looked like she’d been out partying all night. Her lipstick had slid off one side of her mouth, and one fake eyelash was missing. Surprisingly, she had the nerve to look at them as if they were the ones who looked strange.

“If you boys will clean up and dry off I’ll let you eat with my guest. Mrs. Biggs can add a little water to the gravy and we’ll have plenty. We always have hot biscuits on Friday.”

After she left to go put her face on, Border whispered, “She’s just feeling guilty because she doesn’t fix our roof. If we never, ever mention it, maybe she’ll forget again and we can guilt her out of a few more breakfasts.”

Beau accepted a towel from Border’s grandmother and tried to dry off without taking his clothes off. “I hope she never marries again. If she does, and forgets to take her makeup off again, her husband will wake up and think he’s on a
Night of the Zombies
rerun.”

Mrs. Biggs tried not to smile at the comment. “I’ve got a couple of old raincoats that workmen left here a year ago when crews came in to build a fast-food place over by the mall. You boys can wear them home. They’ll cover you from head to toe.”

“Thanks, Granny.” Border kissed her cheek.

Beau did the same even though he found it hard to believe that such a sweet lady could be related to the Biggs boys. Must have been grandbabies switched at birth.

She waved them both away. “Go sit down in the dining room, but no eating until all the guests have filled their plates. If we run out, it should be you two who have to wait until I can scramble more.”

Beau moved into the formal little dining room with one wall of windows facing east. Normally the place was sunny this time of day, but this morning it was gray with water tapping against the glass.

One man sat drinking coffee at the end of the table. Dressed in a white shirt and plum-colored sweater, he looked out of place among the mismatched table and chairs Martha Q must have found at a secondhand store.

“Morning,” Beau offered. “Nice day.” The guy was in his thirties. He stared at Beau with a bored expression that must have taken years to practice.

“Morning,” he finally said. “Don’t tell me you’re other guests. I thought the place was packed.”

Beau poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down as far from the man as possible. “No. I was just invited to breakfast. Heard it’s biscuits and gravy. I love the way Mrs. Biggs puts those big hunks of sausage in her gravy.”

The man sighed as if talking to call waiting. “I don’t eat flour, or milk products, or pig.”

“I’m sure the chickens are sorry to hear that.”

The stranger just stared at him. “I don’t eat any meat products.” He had that why-am-I-telling-this-idiot-anything look about him.

Border backed his way into the room with cookies in both hands.

While he set his appetizer on the tablecloth, Beau thought he’d try the introductions. “Border, this is one of the guests. He’s a vegetarian.”

Border smiled. “That’s great. My grandmother is a Presbyterian.”

Beau grinned. Border had figured out people often took one look at his tattoos and assumed he was dumb. He played it up to the hilt.

Border smiled at the guy. “I’m Border Biggs, mister. I was just pulling your leg.”

“Bryce Galloway,” the man said, without offering a hand. “I’ve heard about you two. You play in a band over at Buffalo’s Bar.”

“That’s right,” Beau said. “You should come hear us some night.”

Bryce lifted his cup. “I might drop by tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that country twang.”

There was no more time to talk. The three widows, staying at the place, hurried in. They’d all met Beau and Border, so they made a fuss over them like they were company and ignored the strange man at the end of the table. When all were seated, Beau didn’t miss the fact that the seats on either side of Bryce Galloway remained empty.

Joni, the chatty one of the three, chimed in as if she’d raised her hand and it was her time to talk. “Are you gentlemen aware you all have names starting with
B
? Border even has two. Would one of you consider changing?”

All three men said no at the same time, and the room went back into silence as if a sign had dropped down demanding it.

Martha Q came in as they were finishing up and said she’d drive the boys back to their place because she planned to take breakfast to Mr. Carleon and Ronny. He’d gone over early to help with the moving of all the medical machines remaining in the duplex.

Beau was glad for the ride and happy to be out of the same room with Galloway. Something about the man bothered him. All his appearance was polished, but Beau had to fight the urge to check and make sure his wallet was still in his pocket when he walked away from the man.

As the day aged, he couldn’t get Bryce Galloway out of his mind. He didn’t feel like practicing, so he slept and read one of the books Marty had lent him.

Ronny invited them over to eat some of the food that folks had dropped off. She looked heartbroken, but at least she’d stopped crying. Beau had heard her most of the night and wished the walls were thicker. It seemed to him that sorrow always passed through thin walls, but joy never did.

When they left for the bar just after dark, it was raining so hard they wrapped the guitars beneath their thick raincoats and ran for Beau’s car.

The mood of the day filtered over into the night. Few came in for drinks or food, and those who did seemed more in the mood to talk than dance. Beau missed watching the people who usually tried to dance.

About eleven a girl with a blond ponytail walked in and sat at the last booth closest to the band cage.

“There’s your girl,” Border whispered.

Beau lifted his head and winked at her, then continued to play.

She watched them for a while. When Beau took a break and walked by her, he whispered, “Hello, Trouble.” He had no idea what her real name was, but she’d been driving over and picking him up now and then for months. They never talked, they just drove through the night.

“My top’s up on the convertible,” she said with a smile, “but you still think you’d want to go for a drive?”

“Sure.” Within ten minutes he’d talked Border into taking his car home and convinced Harley that the band should quit early.

When she left, she pointed to the front door, telling him where she’d be waiting.

Border pulled on the oversized slicker his grandmother had given him that morning. “Go ahead. I’ll load up. You parked so close out back I won’t get anything wet. I can load everything, drive home, and have most of the food Ronny left us eaten before you can say good-bye to the little lady.”

“Save me one slice of the chocolate pie.” Beau knew if he didn’t pick something, Border would finish off everything. They had no use for a garbage disposal at the apartment.

Border was tangled in the cords when he looked back. Beau ran to the front. He couldn’t remember when he’d needed a ride with Trouble more than tonight. Between the funeral and the rain, sunshine seemed a long way away.