Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family] (19 page)

“Goddamn son of a bitch,” Luther growled.

He’d had no idea what Barlow was talking about with that pretty, young nurse of his, but it was clear he was getting worked up over it; he was so utterly oblivious to everything around him, Luther knew he could have killed Barlow in that moment, but it was becoming a game to him, a game he enjoyed playing. Instead, he’d decided to give the doctor a playful nudge. Luther hadn’t intended to hit him hard enough to barrel into the woman, but he was happy with the outcome nevertheless.

The whole thing was so damn funny he couldn’t help but laugh.

Listening to Barlow shout, working up a full head of steam, Luther knew that risking everything was worth the opportunity to see the man’s face once he discovered who was messing with him. Sure enough, when Barlow grabbed him, turning Luther around, the look on the bastard’s face had been priceless; it looked like someone had grabbed him by the pecker and squeezed.

But now, only a few minutes after he’d walked away, Luther felt empty inside. This
wasn’t
a game. This
wasn’t
something he should be laughing about. No matter how much fun he was having, Barlow had taken his brother away, had let Donnie die. For the thousandth time since the crash, Luther imagined what had happened after his brother had been brought back to Longstock from the car crash, Donnie lying on Barlow’s examination table, his body broken but savable, his life ebbing away, while that son of a bitch stood there and refused to lift a finger to help.

The only thing that mattered now was getting his revenge. No matter what it took, regardless of how difficult it was to resist the desire to have a drink, Luther would make Barlow suffer as badly as he had. If he didn’t kill one of the doctor’s precious nephews, maybe he’d have to consider the nurse. She’d looked a bit insulted when he’d winked at her. Luther liked that kind of spunk; maybe he’d have a little bit of fun with her first. It wasn’t too hard to imagine that
that
would hurt Barlow but good.

What put a smile back on Luther’s face was remembering what he had said to Barlow when he’d leaned in, the man nearly speechless at seeing who was interfering in his life.

I’m comin’ for you, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it…

Annette Wilson smiled to herself. Standing in the shadows of the alleyway across the street from the hardware store, she watched as the whore who was fooling around with
her
Tyler got knocked to the ground. That the deed had been done by a worthless piece of trash like Luther Rickert made it all the better. From where she stood, it didn’t look as if it had been an accident. Who knew what the circumstances were, but they pleased her nonetheless.

After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend…

When she’d first seen Tyler showing an interest in the new girl in town, Annette had no idea who she was. Carefully, Annette had started asking around, talking to people who’d met her. To a person, not a bad word had been said, but Annette knew it was because no one had seen her for the bitch she
truly
was. Just remembering her beside Tyler in the pasture was almost more than Annette could bear.

Still, she’d managed to learn a few things about Christina: that she was originally from Minnesota, that she’d been a nurse in the Army, but most important, where she was staying in Longstock.

Annette had stood outside the bakery the night before, watching silently as Christina had walked the long blocks to the Sutter home. The indignation had only gotten worse when, later in the evening, Annette had seen Tyler driving off with the tramp in the passenger’s seat.

That was the last straw! If I wait much longer, it’ll be too late…

It was going to be much harder to get to Christina Tucker than it’d been to attack Caroline Satterly. Caroline’s family lived along a deserted stretch of road. She was set upon in the middle of the night. There was no one to see anything or hear her cries for help. But the whore’s apartment was in the middle of Main Street. There was no telling who might see, who might hear.

To Annette, it was worth the risk of being caught, if only to ensure that Tyler would no longer be in that slut’s clutches, that he would then be
hers
.

Moving deeper into the alleyway, Annette watched as Dr. Barlow helped Christina to her feet.
She looks worried…just as she should be.
When the doctor hurried away, she lingered, looking around, as if she knew danger was nearby, not knowing how real those worries were.

I’m coming for you, whore, and there’s not a thing you can do about it…

F
OR THE SECOND TIME
in a matter of days, Christina was wakened by the sound of creaking on her stairs. The noise was clear and unmistakable. It was followed by a knock on her door.

Outside her bedroom window, the sky was an inky black with a light scattering of stars. Christina had gone to bed early, tired from a trying day, and had no idea what time it was. Dawn was undoubtedly hours away. Lying in bed, slowly trying to get her bearings, she was startled when the knocking came again, this time a bit louder and more insistent.

Her first thought was that it was Tyler. She’d been wrong to make this assumption before, but it didn’t seem so far-fetched now that things between them had significantly changed; with the way they’d kissed, the passion that had blossomed between them, it seemed possible that he’d want to spend more time together.

But why did he have to come in the middle of the night?

Christina rose from bed and put on her robe. Stopping in front of the mirror, she tried to manage her hair, but it was too wild and unruly from sleep and wouldn’t do what she wanted. Whatever Tyler might’ve expected, he would have to take her as she was; next time, he’d have to come at an earlier hour if he wanted her to be more presentable.

But just as she was about to turn the knob, Christina stopped. Just like the last time she’d stepped out onto her landing in the middle of the night, she had no guarantee that her visitor would be who she expected.

If it’s not Tyler, then who…?

Though it unsettled her, the first person who leaped to mind was the strange man who’d bumped into Dr. Barlow that afternoon. Though the doctor spent the rest of the day acting as if nothing had happened, Christina could see that something was weighing on his mind. She had no doubt that he knew the stranger, but for whatever reason, he chose to keep the truth to himself. Whoever the man was, he wasn’t the sort she wanted to encounter, especially not in the middle of the night.

Christina knew the stranger was capable of violence. She’d seen it in his narrow eyes, the way he’d approached the doctor, even in the way he’d winked at her. He hadn’t done anything other than run into Dr. Barlow, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of much worse.

Christina’s thoughts were interrupted by yet another knock at her door. The sound startled her so badly that she jumped.

Nervous as she was, she simply couldn’t imagine that, if the person on the other side of the door meant to do her harm, he’d be stupid enough to announce his presence by knocking.

With a deep breath, Christina opened the door.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I really wanted to see you.”

Holden Sutter stood on Christina’s landing, smiling sheepishly. She felt foolish that she hadn’t considered it could be he, especially after the way he’d looked at her the last time they’d been together. He looked the
exact
opposite of how she felt; while she stood in her robe, her head still groggy with sleep, he was both well dressed and alert, as fresh as if it were the middle of the afternoon.

“I wondered if you wouldn’t like to go for a walk with me,” he said.

“What time is it?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Somewhere around four.” Holden frowned, suddenly aware of how odd it was for him to be standing in front of her door in the middle of the night. “I shouldn’t have wakened you,” he said, turning to leave. “That was inconsiderate of me. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“No, it’s all right, really,” Christina said quickly, stopping him before he’d made his way down only a couple of stairs. “It’ll just take me a minute to shake out the cobwebs.”

“We can do this some other time.”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll be right out.”

Back inside her apartment, Christina took more time wrestling with her conflicted thoughts than she did putting on her clothes. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if Tyler wasn’t right, that Holden had a romantic interest in her. She hoped that he wanted to talk about his tremors, about the war, and about the steps he could take to get better, but she had her doubts.

But walking with Holden would also give her an opportunity to learn more about the rift between the brothers. She’d heard Tyler’s side of the story, but her mother had taught her that there were always
two
sides to every tale.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Holden asked when she reappeared on the landing.

“Let’s go,” she answered.

Walking beneath the moon as it descended to the west, Christina listened intently as Holden told her about Longstock. Peering into darkened storefronts along Main Street, marveling at incredible houses along the river, and pointing in every direction, he regaled her with stories of the people he knew, of the hijinks he used to get into when he was younger, of happier times. Listening to Holden laugh, Christina could see more of the man he’d once been, before the tremors.

Even physically, he looked changed, more put together. But Christina saw the greatest difference was in his eyes. When Holden spoke, they reminded her of jewels, sparkling with life, laughter, and wonder, deep and powerful, the sort that a woman could find herself lost in…

“It sounds like you and Tyler used to do a lot of things together,” she said.

“We did,” Holden agreed. “When we were little boys, things between us weren’t so complicated…”

Christina didn’t know how to answer. The thought of telling Holden what Tyler had said in the car made her feel as if she’d be betraying him in some way. He’d confided in her, extending to her a trust she wanted to respect, and that meant remaining silent. Thankfully, Holden needed no prompting to keep speaking.

“It was hard for Tyler when we were growing up,” he explained, his brow furrowed. “My parents had such high expectations for him. But where things came easily for me, my brother struggled. He was smart in his own way, doing things with his hands, things that I’d have no idea how to do, but no one ever acknowledged him for what he was.

“I stood up for him as best I could, tried to make my mother and father understand that they weren’t being fair to him, that Tyler was his
own
person, but I don’t think it made much difference. The older we got, the more Tyler started resenting me.”

“He feels as if you were put on a pedestal,” Christina offered carefully.

“He’s right,” Holden agreed. “I never wanted the attention, but when you’re a kid it’s hard to make yourself heard. In the end, it was easier to go along with it than try to make a change. Of course, that’s why I’m such an embarrassment to everyone now.”

Christina thought about arguing against what he’d said, to tell him that he was wrong, but instead she decided to change the subject.

“I’m sorry about what happened last night.”

“I suppose I should’ve expected it.” Holden shrugged.

“If I’d known that he would act that way, I never would’ve suggested you come down to dinner.”

“Whenever I would’ve chosen to leave my room, Tyler’s response would have been the same.”

“I’m still happy you came downstairs.”

“Me too,” Holden said, giving her a pleasant smile. “After you made the offer, I kept thinking about how much better I felt for having talked about what happened in France. For the first time since Vinnie died, I felt like taking a chance. Even with what Tyler said, I still hope we can fix things.”

“You just need to talk to him.”

“I don’t know if he wants to hear what I have to say.”

“He’d listen if you gave him a chance.”

“Is this what he told you when you drove off together?” Holden asked; his question caught Christina so completely off-guard that she had to look away.

“We…we didn’t talk about you…,” she lied.

Holden nodded as he kept walking. “Even if you had, it’s really none of my business. You’ve been right all along.” He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling in the night. “If I want to know how Tyler feels, I’m just going to have to ask him myself.”

“Even though I got a lot of attention when I was younger,” Holden said, stopping on the sidewalk and directing her gaze toward the house across the street, “that doesn’t mean Tyler didn’t have his share of admirers.”

Christina couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence of the home. Recessed from the iron fence that ran the length of the sidewalk, the house looked to be twice the size of any of its neighbors. With decorative stained-glass windows, perfectly manicured bushes that fronted an enormous porch, and a walkway lit up every couple of feet with ornate lampposts, it was certainly impressive. Even in the murky light preceding the dawn, Christina sensed that nothing was out of place, not even a lone weed sprouting in the lawn. It was fancy enough to put Eunice Hester’s grand, eccentric house to shame.

“Who lives there?” she asked.

“It belongs to Charles Wilson, the richest man in Longstock,” Holden explained. “His family was one of the first to settle in these parts. They had the good sense to buy up every bit of land they could get their hands on. When newcomers arrived, they sold acreage back at a huge profit. Charles lives comfortably off those spoils.”

“What does this have to do with Tyler?”

“Charles has a daughter, Annette, who’s always been a bit obsessive about my brother. Ever since we were kids, Annette wouldn’t let Tyler out of her sight. She followed him around like a puppy, wrote him love letters, and baked him cookies, all in the hope that he’d love her as much as she did him. Any time a girl showed too much interest in him, Annette would chase her off. That Tyler never returned her affections didn’t seem to matter in the slightest. She just kept right on pining after him.”

“So what happened?” Christina asked, a little uneasy.

“Nothing happened.” Holden shrugged. “I’m sure Annette’s in there right now, dreaming of a life where she and Tyler are happily married.”

“That all sounds a bit…creepy…”

“She’s just confused,” he explained. “She always struck me as the sort of person who was not exactly all there in the brain department.”

Christina couldn’t take her eyes off Annette Wilson’s home. Something about what Holden said unsettled her; it was like the frightening stories Charlotte had told her about walking on someone’s grave. With a shiver, she told herself that she was imagining things.

Longstock’s school sat to the east of town, built at the base of the valley, with thick stands of trees rising to the crest of the hill, and was framed in by the groves of apple trees that were the town’s lifeblood. Three stories tall, it’d been built of brick so dark that it looked foreboding in the gathering light of morning. It stood still and silent, except for the sound of the steel clip that occasionally clattered against the flagpole.

The school appeared old; a marker at one cornerstone read: “1905,” but changes appeared to be coming; a new addition was being constructed off to one side, with sawhorses at the ready, as well as piles of bricks to be mortared into new walls, hallways, and classrooms.

Holden stopped and looked up at the school. “Somehow, every time I go out for a walk, I always end up here.” He sighed.

“This is where you wanted to teach?”

He nodded. “Ever since I first sat in one of its classrooms, this building has always been special to me,” he explained. “I thought being a schoolteacher meant you were one of the smartest people in the whole world. Mrs. Binghampton, my first teacher, sure seemed that way. There wasn’t anything she didn’t know. To be like her seemed the greatest thing I could ever hope for.”

“My sister would love to hear you say that.” Christina smiled.

“She’s a teacher?”

“In a small town in Oklahoma. But I don’t think that she’s been fond of the profession for quite as long as you. If I remember correctly, she wasn’t particularly happy going to school.”

“Boy, I sure was.” Holden smiled broadly. “It didn’t matter what the subject was; arithmetic, writing, you name it, I was always excited to learn something new. If I wasn’t covered in chalk dust at the end of the day, I was upset. The only time I was more disappointed was when it snowed so much school was canceled!”

“Is that why you always come here? To remember those times?”

“That’s part of the reason, I suppose.” He shrugged. “But most of it is because I thought I’d still be here, now, teaching children just as I’d been taught. It’s the only thing I ever wanted to do.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Not with this I can’t,” Holden answered, raising his left hand.

“But you can get better!”

“I feel good about coming down to dinner,” Holden shook his head, “but rejoining my family is one thing. Standing in front of a roomful of children is another. What if I started having a tremor in front of them? How would I ever be able to explain it? How could I handle the embarrassment?”

“Just days ago you thought that you’d never be able to sit down to dinner with your family,” she argued passionately. “Why are you so willing to assume that anything is impossible anymore?”

“My tremors aren’t going to go away.”

“Only if you choose not to do anything to get better. Talking about what happened was only the first step back to the life you want.” Pointing toward the school, Christina said, “The only thing that will hold you back is your own stubbornness.”

“I wish it was that easy…”

“
I
believe in you.”

Christina’s words seemed to light a fire within him; Holden’s face brightened. But just as she hoped that he would begin to believe in himself, that he would take another step in his recovery, his face suddenly drained of color and his eyes grew wide with fright.

“Holden?” she asked in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Even as she spoke, Christina knew the answer; just like the last time he’d come to her apartment in the dark of night, Holden was suffering a tremor. Fearfully she looked at his left arm; he’d pulled it close against his chest, but she could see it begin to twitch, an uncontrollable movement that shook his fingers, wrist, and forearm. The last time this had happened, he’d run off in shame.