Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family] (18 page)

“Because now,” Tyler said slowly, holding her eyes with his own, “now he wants the same thing that I want. He wants you.”

Christina was dumbstruck. This had to be something out of Tyler’s wild imagination, of his simmering hatred for his brother. But there was something even
more
shocking in what Tyler had said. It wasn’t just that he was suggesting Holden had a romantic interest in her, but rather that he was upset because it interfered with
his own
.

Just a few days earlier, Christina’s dislike of the Sutter brothers was so great that she had wondered if she should leave Longstock. Now, they were vying for her affections. But what truly amazed her was that Tyler’s admission didn’t upset her.

“You’re…y-y-ou’re im-m-m-agining things…,” she stammered. “Holden doesn’t…”

“Am I, really?” Tyler laughed humorlessly. “I saw how he was looking at you, and I’m sure you saw it, too.”

Christina knew in her heart that Tyler was right; when Holden had appeared at the bottom of the stairs and had been embraced by his mother, he’d looked over Clara’s shoulder, right at Christina. In his eyes she’d noticed something; there’d been an intensity that had unnerved her, a look of longing a part of her had recognized.

“If what you’re saying is true,” Christina said, “that doesn’t mean I return his feelings.”

“It doesn’t mean you deny them, either,” Tyler countered.

Answering him would’ve been as hard as plucking one of the thousands of stars above from the sky, so Christina chose to remain quiet. Ever since she’d discovered Holden walking Longstock’s darkened streets, she hadn’t been able to look at him quite the same. Learning what had happened to him in France had further changed her view. Only a trace remained of the person he’d once been, a confident man who was loved by all, but she could still see it.

On the other hand, Tyler was also intriguing. Her first impression of him had been so far off the mark that she was almost ashamed of herself. When he’d talked about his beehives, he revealed a different person, someone she wanted to get to know better, handsome, cocky, and headstrong. She had felt something growing between them, even if she couldn’t have said what it was; now, clearly, he’d admitted the same.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, his voice oddly soft.

“How could you ask such a thing?”

“Do you?” he persisted.

“No…not at all.”

“Then why are you sitting so far away from me?” Tyler asked, putting his hand on the space between them. “Why don’t you come a little closer…?”

Christina knew what Tyler wanted; she wasn’t
so
inexperienced with men not to know what he was suggesting. But accepting his offer would undoubtedly make things more complicated between the two of them, as well as between her and Holden. Still, there was a part of her that stirred at Tyler’s advances, a yearning that was uncomfortable and exciting, all at the same time. In the end, whatever reservations she had weren’t enough to hold her back.

Tenderly, Christina reached over and placed her hand on his, their fingers immediately intertwining. Slowly, she slid toward him, her heart skipping a beat as he moved to meet her. The warmth of their bodies touching sent shivers of excitement racing across her skin. Suddenly a bit nervous, she marveled at how boldly she was acting. Uncertain about what she should do next, Christina waited for Tyler to lead.

“Isn’t this better?” he asked.

His hand found her chin, lifting her face toward his. Outside the Tudor, an owl hooted, an insistent call, but Christina paid it no attention, her mind spinning at how she’d gotten herself in such a situation but hardly regretting it.

“You know,” Tyler said, his lips close, his breath on her face. “I’m not as bad as everyone likes to think. I wouldn’t—”

“Hush,” Christina quieted him, placing a finger on his lips, a gesture that made him smile.

When Tyler leaned down, she rose to meet him, closing her eyes, curious,
excited
about where this was all headed. Gone were her worries about why Tyler hated his brother, about the possibility of Holden having feelings for her; all that mattered was that instant, however long it would last.

As his lips touched hers, Christina let her hand move to Tyler’s chest, steadily drifting until she squeezed his biceps, yearning for his touch. His kiss was softer than she would’ve expected, tender, as if he was being careful not to allow his passion to race out of control. But she marveled at his strength, at how strong his skin felt beneath her touch, at how closely he held her to him. She wondered if he worried she’d try to get away; he needn’t have.

There was nowhere else she would rather have been.

C
HRISTINA STARED DOWN
at her plate of untouched eggs and hash. Lazily, she stirred her fork in the food, loosening the yolk. She’d taken only a sip of her coffee. Everything smelled wonderful, and while she assumed that it probably
tasted
just as delicious, her thoughts were such a swirl of new, incredible emotions that she couldn’t bring herself to find out.

Marla’s Diner was packed with people. From where Christina sat in a booth at the front window, she could see that nearly every table was full, with a handful of customers still waiting near the front door. Back in the kitchen, a sweaty cook feverishly tried to keep up with the piling orders, slapping a bell whenever a plate was ready. Wafting around the room were the rich smells of pancakes and coffee, the clinking of silverware and glasses, and bits of conversation.

“…darn worms will get into everything if we’re not careful…”

“Gimme a couple of eggs, hard, with a side of bacon, and a glass of…”

“…so then I said to him, ‘I don’t know if we can keep…’”

Across from her, Dr. Barlow had his nose buried in the newspaper held up in front of him. He’d been that way ever since they’d arrived, occasionally nibbling on his food but not saying much. Christina could see the morning’s headline: AMERICAN ATOMIC ENERGY PLAN SUBMITTED TO UNITED NATIONS. Apparently, it was much more interesting than talking with her.

Not that I mind…especially not after what happened last night…

Long after Tyler had taken her home, Christina lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the feel of his lips touching hers. Nothing untoward had happened between them, he’d remained a true gentleman, but Christina found herself shocked at how forward
she
had been. Kissing Tyler had stirred something inside her, like the winding of a grandfather clock. Still, she also thought about Holden, wondering if Tyler hadn’t been right about his brother being attracted to her. Though she hadn’t slept much, she felt energized, as if she were walking on air, even if that meant her head was in the clouds.

Arriving at the doctor’s office, Christina had struggled through the morning, walking around in a daze, her thoughts drifting back to Tyler. Thankfully, she hadn’t been as absentminded around the doctor, helping him tend to their patients; there didn’t need to be
another
reason for their relationship to be further complicated. When he suggested they go to lunch, Christina had readily accepted.

Now she wondered why he chose to ignore her.

The only thing that had penetrated her daydreaming was Dr. Barlow’s improved condition. Though he was as grouchy as ever, he no longer looked quite so rough around the edges; there were no dark bags under his eyes, his hair was neatly combed, and he’d even taken the time to shave. He was as presentable as he’d been the day they’d met at the train station. Now if she could only do something about his attitude…

“I suppose Tommy Williams won’t be climbing tall trees anytime soon,” Christina began; the young boy had been brought in by his mother after falling from an apple tree and breaking his arm. Dr. Barlow had reset the arm that morning, encasing it in a plaster cast.

The doctor gave no answer, turning a page of his newspaper.

“As upset as his mother was,” Christina continued, “I doubt that she’ll let him out of her sight long enough to get into mischief again.”

Dr. Barlow still gave no reply, not even a grunt or a nod of his head.

Christina frowned; she’d had about enough. The first time, she could assume that he hadn’t heard her, but now she was convinced he was ignoring her. Dropping her fork with a loud clatter, she gruffly snapped, “If reading a newspaper is what you wanted to do, I don’t know why you bothered to invite me along!” With that, she rose to leave.

“Christina, wait,” he said before she could get to her feet. “Just…just sit back down and we can talk…”

Christina paused, reluctant to give in so easily.

Several people sitting around them had obviously noticed how they’d spoken to each other. Dr. Barlow gave each of them an easy smile and nod, which seemed to satisfy their curiosity.

“Please,” he said.

Sighing, Christina sat down again. She looked at him warily as he folded his newspaper, setting it aside. For a long moment, he remained silent, rubbing his thumb along the edge of his watch, refusing to look up at her. Finally, he spoke.

“Ever since you left my house that afternoon, I’ve tried as hard as I could to act as if nothing had happened between us,” Dr. Barlow began, his voice low to keep from being overheard, “but every time I open my damn mouth to speak, all I can think about is the sorry state I was in.”

“I don’t judge you for that,” Christina said. “Every one of us has problems. Some are just worse than others.”

“I don’t reckon there are many as bad as mine.”

“Holden would disagree with you.”

Dr. Barlow nodded his head. “You’re right about that,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean my problem doesn’t embarrass the hell out of me. Someone of my standing isn’t supposed to behave that way.

“But the worst was seeing Archie Felton. It was a reminder of what I could someday become. That thought scares me so much that I haven’t had any morphine since; I swear.” As if to plead his innocence, the doctor put his hands out in front of him, then clasped them together; entwined, they shook slightly; Christina didn’t know if it was because of nervousness or withdrawal.

“I don’t think you’re as bad as Archie,” she said.

“But I could be, don’t you see,” he argued, his voice growing a bit louder and more strained. “If I keep going the way I have, then someday everyone I care about is going to shun me the same way Archie’s family does him.”

“All you need to do is stop.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Dr. Barlow frowned, shaking his head. “Even though I’ve managed to quit every once in a while, who knows when the day’s going to come where I can’t resist anymore, where the enticement’s too great to ignore?”

“Then you have to get help,” Christina explained. “You need to confront the reasons
why
you abuse yourself the way you do.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to let it out right there, in the middle of the diner, but suddenly the front door swung violently open, starting an unexpected commotion.

Archie Felton stumbled inside, almost falling on his face, already drunk as a skunk in the early hours of the afternoon. His clothing was a mess, his shirttails untucked and filthy, his shirt stained so badly she would’ve had a hard time guessing its true color. His face was flushed a bright red, his eyes wet, and his jaw slacked open. Christina couldn’t believe what she was seeing; it was as if he’d been waiting outside for a cue to make his grand entrance.

“Careful now, Archie,” the woman behind the lunch counter said as she quickly moved to where he wobbled, steering him unsteadily toward a nearby seat. “You look like you could use a cup of coffee.” Clearly, his drunkenness was something people in the diner were used to.

Seeing him in such a sorry state, Christina was reminded of how bad off Dr. Barlow had been when she’d found him; wondering if he could see what she was thinking made her flush with embarrassment.

She needn’t have bothered; clearly, he
was
thinking the exact same thing.

“Come on,” he said gruffly, throwing some bills on the table he left. “I’ve suddenly lost what was left of my appetite.”

Outside, Christina hurried to catch up to Dr. Barlow as he walked briskly down the sidewalk. All around her, life appeared to move at a leisurely pace; clouds ambled across the sky, birds glided on the scant breeze, and what few people shared the street with her and Dr. Barlow seemed to be in no hurry to get where they were going, just another easygoing summer afternoon.

Christina, however, saw everything in her life rocketing along, moving far faster than she either wanted or expected. Her recent arrival in Longstock, her relationship with Tyler, discovering Holden wandering the streets in the middle of the night, and finding Dr. Barlow under the influence of morphine all fell right on top of one another. It was enough to make her dizzy.

“Dr. Barlow, wait!” she called to him. “Just wait a minute!”

Finally, the doctor stopped near a street corner, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his face twisted up in exasperation.

“Of all the days to see Archie like that,” he muttered. “Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse!”

“It’s just bad luck, is all,” Christina offered.

“Everyone in town
knows
Archie is a drunk,” Dr. Barlow explained. “Everyone! You saw the way Patty came out to help him into a chair! Dealing with him is old hat by now!”

“No one seemed upset.”

“Not to his face, they weren’t! But believe me, there isn’t a soul in Longstock who feels any pity for him.” The doctor frowned. “Not after what all he’s done to his family. He was right, you know, back in the clinic, about how his drinking put his wife in an early grave. Somehow, she managed to put up with him for twenty years, but paid for it with her life. I’m amazed his son agreed to drive him anywhere! He doesn’t deserve an ounce of pity!”

Christina wanted to contradict him,
she
felt sympathy for what Archie Felton had done to himself, but held her tongue.

“I can only imagine what people think when they see me walk past,” Dr. Barlow fretted, growing more and more agitated. “I’d be a fool to think that I do much better hiding my own demons! How many people shake their heads when I walk by, thinking, ‘There goes the sad, old drug addict’!”

Before Christina could reply, before she could argue that he was jumping to conclusions, the doctor suddenly, shockingly, lurched forward, slamming into her. The force of the collision nearly lifted her from the ground and was strong enough that she couldn’t keep from falling. Her backside hit the sidewalk hard, sending shivers of pain racing up her spine. While her purse skittered away, thrown as she fell, Christina cried out in hurt and surprise.

Dr. Barlow tottered above her, looking as if he would fall to the ground beside her, but somehow he managed to stay upright. His newspaper flew out of his windmilling hands, flapping down like a bird shot from the sky. His face flushed an angry red.

“What in the hell?” he asked furiously.

A man walked past them, one hand stuffed into his pocket, the other lifting a cigarette; once he’d taken a deep drag, Christina thought that she heard him chuckle. His clothing was unkempt, worn through with holes and soiled. She hadn’t gotten a look at his features; not once did he bother glancing in their direction, choosing instead to keep walking away, slowly at first, but then steadily faster.

“You! You there!” Dr. Barlow shouted, striding purposefully to catch the stranger. “Wait just a minute!”

The man paid the doctor no mind, walking along as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the doctor asked, his face twisted in consternation and outrage. Grabbing the man by the shoulder, he spun him around. “Didn’t you see what you caused back there?” But the rest of his words remained unspoken.

Now that the stranger was facing her, Christina got her first good look at him. Dark, greasy hair hung low over his forehead, framing a pinched-up face as worn as his clothing. Stubble peppered his sunken cheeks, making him look even more disheveled; with his wiry build, he reminded her of a rodent. It was difficult to tell how old he was; though youngish-looking, he appeared to have led a hard life. But it was his eyes that truly unnerved her; narrow and cold, they regarded the doctor with a flat, menacing gaze, even as a trace of a smile curled the corners of his mouth. Christina had the unpleasant feeling she and the doctor were in some kind of danger; she looked around, but there was no one who could possibly help them.

The change in the doctor’s demeanor was both immediate and unexpected. The anger that had fueled him down the street in search of an apology drained from him in an instant. He let go of the other man’s shoulder as quickly as if he’d been bitten, while his knees looked more unsteady than when he’d collided with her.

“You…it can’t…it can’t be you…,” he muttered, awkwardly stepping away from the stranger.

Menacingly, the man stepped close to Dr. Barlow so fast that Christina thought he was going to strike him. The doctor must have felt it, too, because he raised his trembling hands in a feeble gesture of self-defense. Instead, the man leaned close to Dr. Barlow’s ear, whispering something that set the older man’s shoulders shaking, before patting him hard on the cheek, giving Christina a wink, and again walking away. This time, the doctor made no move to go after him.

For a long moment, the doctor remained frozen in place, watching the man disappear around the nearest corner. Then, as if someone had snapped his fingers in front of his face, the doctor suddenly stirred, frantically looking around. Seeing Christina still lying on the sidewalk, he rushed back and helped her to her feet.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes darting back over his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” Christina answered. “Who was that man?”

“No one…he was no one,” Dr. Barlow answered nervously.

“But it looked like you knew him, like he knew you. Why did he run into you like that?”

“It was just an honest accident.” He tried to smile reassuringly but failed miserably. “It’s nothing to worry about. But we should get back to the office. Callie will be wondering what happened to us.” Without giving Christine a chance to respond, he took off at a trot, rushing away quickly.

Christina knew Dr. Barlow wasn’t telling her the truth about the stranger. What had occurred looked completely intentional. But just like his morphine abuse, she knew he wouldn’t talk about it, even if she asked. For now, it would have to remain a mystery.

With a frown, she once again hurried to catch up.

Luther knew he shouldn’t have taken the risk of letting Samuel Barlow see him, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. Days had passed since he’d begun shadowing the bastard, but no matter how carelessly Luther watched, the man never seemed to notice. Standing outside the diner, Luther had decided that he might as well remind Donnie’s murderer he was still alive. Besides, there was nothing quite as satisfying as giving someone a good scare.