Chance McCall (25 page)

“Thanks, Charlie,” Chance said quietly. “But I don’t think I’ll be staying in Odessa. This is the last place I need to be.” Thoughts of running into Victoria made him sick. Thoughts of killing Logan Henry were too vivid to ignore. If he stayed, he’d only wind up in trouble.

Charlie nodded. He’d suspected as much. But losing Chance was like losing his own son.

“I understand, boy. Really I do. But you’ve got to keep in touch. I won’t let you go without that promise.”

Chance tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and his mouth hurt too much to push the issue. His face was just beginning to heal. It had taken two days before he could swallow without tasting blood. He’d get well—Charlie had taken him to a doctor for that assurance. But the secrets inside him would fester…and fester…and he’d never heal. Not from those. Never from those.

Just thinking of Victoria brought on guilt and sadness. Remembering his mother made him sick. What he’d said to her had hurt her enough that she hadn’t wanted to live.

“I won’t make promises I can’t keep, Charlie. You know me better than that.”

“Well hell, boy, then take care of yourself. I’ll miss you.”

Chance hugged the man and suffered a kiss from his wife, but the words went in one ear and out the other. He was as dead inside as the woman they’d just put to rest. He watched the mourners leave. Finally, they were gone. He stared down at the dirt at his feet and tried not to think of his mother buried beneath it.

“What are you going to do?”

The words rang in his ears. He looked up, unable to believe the gall of the man beside him.

“You have no business here,” Chance said, and stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from putting them in the man’s face.

Logan Henry frowned. This was worse than he could have imagined. After their fight, he’d never envisioned that even more of this boy’s world would collapse. It had taken harsh, accusing words from his wife, and a daughter near death, to make him realize that every ounce of blame lay on him.

“Do you need money?”

Chance stepped forward. “Now you ask? Now that she doesn’t have to lay on her back to get the money to feed us? Now that she won’t have to turn another trick to keep the gas from being turned off in winter?” He took a deep breath and pointed down. “You ask her if she needs any money. I don’t want a damn thing from you!”

Logan was hurting too. And when he hurt, just like Chance, he lashed out at whoever was available.

“Stay away from Victoria,” he said.

Chance sneered. “I’m not the low-life you are, mister. I wouldn’t do that to her. You just keep your hands to yourself. You hit her again…I’ll know it.”

Logan flushed. “I didn’t mean to hit her. It was an accident. I’ve never laid a hand on her in my life.” And then he took a deep breath and let the words fall out before he changed his mind. “She tried to kill herself.”

Chance turned pale. “My God,” he mumbled, as his knees went weak. “Is she…”

“She’s alive. And she’ll be fine. It was the shock…I think.” His voice shook. “I’ve got to find a way to make it up to her,” he said. “In time, she’ll understand. She has to.”

Chance saw the guilt that Logan Henry was bearing. He wanted to enjoy the fact that the man who’d ruined his mother’s life was in pain. He needed the satisfaction of knowing that he wouldn’t rest easy again in this lifetime, but all he could do was weep.

“Victoria may never understand why you were such a bastard,” Chance said, as a single tear ran down his face. He stared at the mound of earth that was quickly drying to a hard shell over the only family he’d ever known. “
She
didn’t.”

Logan looked at the grave and wanted to take back the last twenty years of his life and do them all over again. But it was too late…for everything.

“Where are you going?” he asked, as he watched Chance walk away.

“I’m leaving you here to face your ghosts,” Chance said. “And I hope you rot in hell alongside them.”

The moon was up, shining a weak, quarter glow on the overgrown yard and the rusty pickup parked on the street in front of the house. Chance walked through the rooms, occasionally opening a drawer, looking in a closet, making certain that he’d taken everything he would possibly need.

Only yesterday one of the neighbors had knocked on the door and callously inquired as to what Chance intended to do with his mother’s things. Chance had slammed the door in her face. He already knew what he was going to do with their things. What he couldn’t take, he wouldn’t leave behind.

His suitcase was packed. Several things he’d simply left on hangers and dumped in a pile in the seat of the truck. He had his wallet, what little money he’d saved from his last paycheck, and his high school yearbook. It was a strange combination of choices, but understandable when he thought about it. They were the only things of value that he owned, that Logan Henry hadn’t indirectly provided. He wanted nothing from the man.

A strange anxiety seized him. It was time! Suddenly he couldn’t get away fast enough. He grabbed the can he’d brought from the station and began walking through the house, methodically pouring a thin, steady stream of gasoline on and over everything. Walls and floors, furniture and clothing; nothing escaped his treatment.

He walked out of the house, tossed the empty can into the back of his truck, and stood for a moment in the shadows of the yard, watching the house take its last breaths. He shuddered, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a book of matches. They were from Charlie’s Gas and Guzzle. He stepped up onto the porch, kicked the door open, and yanked the safety match across the pad. It flared instantly. Chance gave it a toss and then ran.

The air inside the house ignited before the match ever hit the floor. Chance reached the pickup just as the first window blew, shattering glass and wood across the front yard. He started the truck, put it in gear, and accelerated. The glow of the flames was bright in the rear view mirror over the dashboard. The hair on the back of his arms smelled singed where he’d come too close to the flames. Chance McCall had just burned every bridge connecting him to Odessa. He headed out of town with the sound of sirens fading away behind him. It was time to leave. He never looked back.

“Hey, good lookin’,” the waitress teased, “what’ll it be this morning? We’ve got a special. Pancakes and sausage, all you can eat for two ninety-nine.”

Chance nodded. She was becoming a familiar, almost comfortable part of his life, even though he still didn’t know her name. He wondered how many other good people were still in this town that he’d never had the pleasure of meeting.

The town had become almost familiar, too. He’d gotten used to its flatness and even welcomed the wind, knowing that by evening it would be nothing but a cool reminder of the dying day. Every morning he awoke with a feeling of anticipation, hoping that this would be the day that his problems would be resolved and that he could go home to Jenny. But every day turned into the next and then the next, and he was starting to worry. Maybe he should just call it quits and go back.

He fiddled with the steaming cup of coffee in front of him, waiting for it to be cool enough to drink. The early morning sun bounced off the windshield of a car that had just pulled up in front of the diner. It flashed directly into Chance’s eyes. He blinked, tilted his head to get away from the sun’s rays, and then stared at the woman getting out of the car.

She was tall and blond, about his age, and wore her years and her money well. The stiff breeze outlined the long legs beneath her dress as she fought the wind gusts and her skirt. Her other arm was wrapped around her hair, trying to hold it in place. Neither was succeeding. Chance started to smile at her struggles and then he saw her face.

Coffee sloshed over the side of the cup. A pain shot through his head, single and swift. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. A sense of dread began to take hold. He’d felt it once before, when he’d learned that Letty McCall had committed suicide. He held his breath, resisted the urge to bolt, and watched the woman walk into the diner. She was heading for his booth.

“My God! I thought you were dead! You left without a word…and never came back. I thought you were dead!”

Her voice shook as she slipped into the other side of the booth and slid her fingers across his hand. The look on his face made her jerk back in surprise. He looked as if he didn’t know her. “I’m sorry if I’ve made a mistake. But…you are…your name
is
Chance McCall…isn’t it?” she asked.

Chance took a deep breath. He’d come to Odessa for this reason. He’d wanted to locate someone who knew him. It was the only way he’d ever be able to find himself. But now that the opportunity was here, his fear of knowing the truth increased.

Victoria couldn’t understand this distance between them. Yes, one relationship had ended between them, but there was still another that she desperately wanted to salvage.

“I’m Chance McCall,” he answered.

“I knew it,” she cried. “I couldn’t be that wrong about someone I knew so well.”

Chance didn’t want to hear this. Thoughts of Jenny overwhelmed him. What if he’d left a wife behind…or children? He’d never considered that possibility. The idea of not being able to claim Jenny Tyler made him sick.

Victoria was stunned. She hadn’t expected a cold shoulder. Not from Chance. They’d shared so much as victims of the same twist of fate. Surely he wasn’t blaming her, too?

“Chance? What’s wrong? Don’t you recognize me? I know it’s been twelve years, but I can’t have changed that much.” She tried to smile, but it died when she saw the look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t know you. Should I?”

“Yes, dammit,” she said softly, and waved away a waitress who’d started toward their booth. “You
should
know me. I’m Victoria!” And then she hesitated before adding, “I’m your sister!”

The pain behind his eyes surfaced upon impact. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he pulled himself up from the booth. A persistent feeling of doom lent strength to his legs as he walked away. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, threw his head back, and drew long, slow breaths into his lungs.
A sister? I have family? Why don’t I believe her? Yet what could she possibly have to gain by lying
? And then another thought struck him. She said her name was Victoria? The girl in the picture was Victoria. He’d left the picture in his room.

Getting that picture suddenly became all important. He didn’t think, he just reacted. He started across the street, heading for his room at the motel.

“Chance! Wait! I don’t understand,” she called. “You’ve got to let me explain.” She was behind him. He could hear her running to keep up.

He unlocked the door. The school yearbook was on the table, and the picture beside it. He grabbed the picture and turned to her. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Victoria was out of breath and nearly out of patience. She hadn’t slept a wink since Della had called her from the courthouse. She’d talked way into the night with her husband, Ken, before deciding that this meeting must take place. She wanted to shout in frustration when it dawned on her that he was sincere. She took the picture out of his hand and stared.

“My God! You’ve had this all that time? Yes, it’s me,” she said. “But I don’t understand. You have this picture, yet you pretend not to know me?” Her voice was thick with hurt.

There was nothing to say but the truth, and hope to hell that it made things better.

“I’m not pretending,” he said. “A few months ago I was injured. When I finally recovered, everything was back in place except mv memory.” He took a deep breath and then blurted the rest of it out in a rush. “I’ve even had to take someone’s word that I’m Chance McCall. I don’t remember. The doctor kept telling me to be patient. That it would all come back when it was time. But time was running out. There’s a woman I love very much, who deserves more than bits and pieces of a man. I came back, hoping that this place or someone I found here would trigger the memories. Until today, I’d just about given up.”

It hurt her to hear him say that he loved another woman. Once he’d said the same to her. And then her conscience and reason surfaced. Jealousy didn’t belong in their relationship anymore. “So, do you remember me now?” Victoria asked.

“No. But you’re the first person who’s remembered me. I was beginning to think I hadn’t mattered to a living soul. I guess when you recognized me, I got rattled. Sorry I ran out on you.”

He waited, willing her to accept him. There was nothing else he could say or do to make it easier for both of them.

But Victoria knew what to do. “Oh, Chance. You mattered. You always did. Come here. I’ve waited twelve years to do this.” She gave him a quick hug.

Her touch was gentle, and unobtrusive, and for some reason, familiar. Chance took a deep breath. “My sister?”

For a moment, Victoria remembered more, but now was not the time. It would be better if he remembered that on his own. And it might be better if he didn’t remember that at all.

“Yes, darling. Your sister. Welcome home.”

His arms slid around her shoulders. He closed his eyes and finally relaxed.

Jenny Tyler drove into Odessa with a new understanding of the man she’d known as Chance McCall. This country he’d come from was so different from hers. Here it was all flat and open, with nowhere to hide. Nowhere except inside one’s self, and Chance had been good at that.

She pulled up to the pump at a gas station and parked. An attendant hurried out, wearing greasy coveralls and a smile.

“What’ll it be, miss?” he asked. “Fill ’er up?”

Jenny nodded.

“How ya’ll doin’?” he asked.

Jenny smiled. People were certainly friendly here. It made her feel just a tiny bit better. The hole in her heart was badly in need of patching, and a friendly face helped.

“I’m doing fine,” Jenny said. “Maybe you could help me locate an address. I’m looking for a motel.”

“You bet,” the man answered as he finished wiping the windshield. “There’s the usual chain motels. And there’s a couple that come to mind that are privately owned. There’s the Best Western Garden Oasis or maybe the Parkway Inn. Want me to tell you how to get there?”