Heartland (8 page)

“It must have been a horrible time for her. I wish to God I'd been here.”

“So do I. Maybe then she wouldn't have become so bitter and withdrawn. From what Tommy's told me, she dropped out of school without so much as a word of complaint and came back here to take charge. He and Greg were never allowed to mention college or medicine to her again. She threw herself heart and soul into making this farm work. She gave Tommy and Greg the chance to go off on their own, practically forced them to do it, from what I understand.

“When Tommy graduated from college and we got married, we came here to help. I saw how she resented your buying part of her land, but I have to tell you it was a godsend. The strain was killing her. The minute the farm was out of danger, she started encouraging us to get out on our own, to live the life we'd always wanted. Greg never came back. He's already had a one-man show down in Columbus, and there's even talk of him having an exhibit in New York. She's terribly proud of him.”

Megan looked him straight in the eye. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that Lara is the most unselfish woman I have ever known. It's time she started doing the things she wanted to do. Maybe it's even time she got rid of this place and went back to school. That's what Tommy thinks. If I have one regret, it's that Tommy and I are going so far away. When we're gone, she'll be alone here. The prospect terrifies me. After all she's done for the rest of us, she doesn't deserve that kind of loneliness.”

He understood her point at last. “I'll be here,” he promised. “She won't be alone. As for choosing between the farm and medicine, that's something only she can do.”

Megan nodded, then gave him a radiant smile. “I think you'll be good for her.”

“God knows, I'm going to try.”

“There's something else.” She fumbled nervously with her spoon, picking it up, putting it down, stirring her coffee again. The sudden shift in her demeanor worried him, and he waited with an odd sense of dread to hear what was upsetting her. Finally she said, “We want to take the girls back with us when we leave today.”

Steven closed his eyes and sighed. “I see.”

“How do you think she'll take it?”

He responded honestly. “She's going to think you blame her for Kelly's accident.”

This time it was Megan who sighed. “That's what I told Tommy.” She stared at him, beseeching him to understand, but Steven felt a knife twisting in his heart on Lara's behalf. She was going to be devastated. “It's not that, you know. I swear it. It just makes sense, now that we're here, to take them back. We have the house now. Tommy's settled in his new job. He thinks it's crazy to make another trip in just a few weeks. And after all this strain, well, we just want our children with us.”

“I see your point.”

“Will Lara?”

“You said yourself that she's unselfish. She'll try to understand, but she's going to be hurt. There's no getting around that.”

“Then I'm especially glad you two have found each other again. Maybe it'll make the pain a little more bearable.”

“Let me tell her, Megan.”

“To be honest, I'd be relieved if you would.”

With so much on his mind, Steven had little to say as he and Megan cleaned up the kitchen. When they were done, he went outside to watch for Lara. How on earth was he going to tell her this, after all she'd been through? He was filled with frustration, yet he understood Tommy's decision. But he wondered if any of them knew just how deeply Lara's hurt was likely to run. Hopefully she wouldn't respond to this loss by withdrawing into a protective shell as she had in the past.

He was waiting by the gate when she came into view. Her blond hair sparkled in the sunlight, as if it were covered with a scattering of tiny diamonds. Her step was light, her expression gloriously happy. She came straight to him, slid an arm around his waist and placed a kiss on his cheek. Her exuberance and lack of restraint brought a smile to his lips. Her old spirit was slowly coming back.

“Miss me?” she inquired.

“Forever.”

She studied him closely and apparently saw beyond the smile. “Are you sad about something?”

He held her hand, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles, then lifting it to his lips. He kissed the callused tips of her fingers. “We need to talk.”

She was instantly alert. “What about?”

“Come. Let's sit on the porch.”

Her eyes widened, and her hand tightened around his. “Steven, what is it? Something's wrong, isn't it? Is it Kelly? Is there some aftereffect from her fall?”

“No,” he said promptly, furious with himself for frightening her. “Not the way you mean.”

“Then what?”

He struggled to find the right words. “You know, this trip was an unexpected expense for Megan and Tommy,” he began finally. “With a new job and the move, they can't have a lot of extra money right now.”

“Good heavens, is that all?” she said, her relief painfully obvious. “I hadn't even thought about that. It's no problem. I have a little money put away. I'll pay for their tickets.”

He touched a finger to her lips. Her quick, typically giving response wrenched his heart. “No, love. That's not the point. If it was merely a question of money, I could loan it to them. There's been the time away from their new home, too.”

“What are you getting at?” Then a suspicion apparently popped into her mind, and her voice went flat. “They want to take the girls back with them, don't they?”

Steven put a hand against her cheek and met her distraught gaze. Her eyes grew misty when he nodded.

“It's because of what...”

He gathered her close until he could feel the dull pounding of her heart. So slow now, the joyous beating he'd inspired during the night stilled by her pain. She smelled of sunshine and hay and a lingering trace of some light, flowery scent.

“Hush,” he said gently. “Don't even think that way. I told you why. It has nothing at all to do with what happened to Kelly. They just feel that as long as they're here, it makes sense for Jennifer and Kelly to leave with them now.”

“Oh, Steven,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his chest. He stroked her head, his fingers tangling in the silken strands of her hair. “What am I going to do?”

“You're going to say goodbye and promise that you'll come to Kansas City very soon to visit.”

“But then what?”

“Then you and I will start talking about making a life for ourselves.” He hesitated. “If that's what you want.”

A sigh whispered across his chest, and she lifted her face until she could look into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making this easier to bear.”

Though Steven was grateful that she felt that way, he wasn't so sure it was true. The afternoon was clearly a torment for her. She went upstairs and helped Megan pack the girls' clothes and toys. He stood in the doorway of the room and watched as she hugged Kelly's ragged bear tightly before placing it ever so carefully in a carry-on bag. Her expression grew sadder with each passing moment, and though she said nothing to make Tommy and Megan feel guilty, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was falling apart inside.

Even Greg's arrival didn't cheer her. If anything, his determined rambunctiousness and ready wit made her gloom seem all the more pronounced. In the end it was Greg who drove Megan and Tommy and the girls to the airport in Toledo. Biting her trembling lower lip and blinking back tears, Lara insisted on saying her goodbyes at the farm. She stood on the front porch and waved until the car was out of sight.

Then she turned and with a tiny cry of dismay buried her face against Steven's chest and sobbed as though her heart had broken.

“Shh, sweetheart. It's okay. You'll see them again soon. Shh.”

Witnessing her desolation now gave Steven a tangible image of what his own departure must have cost her. So many goodbyes for such a young lifetime, he thought. It was all he could do to keep from weeping with her.

Chapter Eight

T
he rain began after midnight. Lara heard it pounding rhythmically on the tin roof and felt it was a fitting accompaniment for the dull throbbing in her head and the heaviness in her heart. She had anticipated with dread the time when Jennifer and Kelly would leave, but she had thought she could prepare herself for it. Unfortunately it had taken her by surprise, before she could muster her strength to face it well. Only Steven's presence had kept her from crawling into bed and drowning in her misery.

She rolled over and caught him looking at her.

“Can't sleep?”

She shook her head.

“Let me rub your back. Maybe you'll relax.”

She turned onto her stomach and felt the bed shift as Steven knelt over her. His hands touched her bare shoulders, and she again felt the sharp shock of desire sweep through her. But he began kneading the muscles, conscious only of her tension. She sighed with a sense of regret and tried to make her mind a blank, to let the soothing sensations wash over her.

Instead, she kept seeing Jennifer and Kelly waving excitedly to her from the back seat of Greg's car. They were so caught up in the adventure ahead of them, they hadn't shed a single tear for what they were leaving behind. Not for the farm. Not for Logan. Not for her.

“Stop dwelling on it,” Steven said, as if he could read her mind.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about the kids?”

“Because these knotted muscles of yours are getting worse, not better, and I don't think my technique's at fault.”

She smiled into the pillow. “Sorry if I'm destroying your ego.”

“Forget my ego. I'm talking about your sense of loss. You're letting it get all out of proportion. Sweetheart, this isn't forever. You can visit Jennifer and Kelly. They'll probably be back for Christmas and again next summer. And there is one positive benefit you're ignoring completely.”

“What's that?”

“This.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. It sent yet another predictable tingle dancing down her spine as he added, “You and I would not be able to be together quite so easily with your watchful little nieces around.”

Grateful for his understanding and his ardent caring, she rolled over and drew his head down until his lips hovered just above hers. Her eyes met his, searching for and finding the gleam of desire that warmed them to the deepest blue. “How did you come up with the one thing that might cheer me up?”

He gave her a crooked grin. “Actually, it was no more than wishful thinking. I was hoping that you felt the same way about this that I do. I don't ever want us to be separated again.”

He closed the infinitesimal distance between them then, his lips claiming hers with such absolute tenderness that it took her breath away. Then with unending gentleness he swept her away to their own private island of dreams, where magic caressed her flesh and brought her a blessed relief from the anguish of her thoughts.

At last, Steven's arms around her, she slept.

In the morning, though, her depression returned, magnified by the rolling clouds that masked the sun and threatened yet more rain. Steven found her at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee clasped in both hands, staring off into the distance. He brushed a kiss across her forehead.

“What shall we do today?” he asked, his attitude determinedly upbeat.

She faced him guiltily. “Would you mind if I go out and help Logan with the harvesting? Maybe the exercise will help me shake off this rotten mood. There's no point in subjecting you to it.”

“I'm not complaining.”

She gave him a wavery smile. “No, you're not. How did I ever get to be so lucky?”

“You weren't saying that about me a couple of weeks ago. You were calling me the worst sort of beast then.”

“You've changed,” she replied, then shook her head. “No. I'm the one who's changed. Maybe neither one of us has changed. I don't know.”

She put her cup down so hard the coffee splattered across the table. She ignored it. “I've got to get out of here.”

She started for the door, then turned back and asked hesitantly, “Will I see you later?”

“Why don't we get away from here, maybe go out for dinner and a movie?”

Lara nodded unenthusiastically. As long as they were together, what they did hardly mattered. Nothing mattered, she thought dismally.

“Fine,” she said, and left, refusing to think about the confused look in his eyes, the worried frown on his brow.

She hadn't gone ten yards when she realized how impossible she was being. She was not going to sulk forever. She'd snap herself out of this. In the meantime she went back to the kitchen and gave Steven the lingering, breath-stealing kiss he deserved. “I'm sorry. I'll try to be in a better mood by tonight.”

“No problem,” he said, forgiving her so readily it made her heart ache at even the momentary unhappiness she'd caused him.

“If you're not,” he added, “I'll just have to dream up some extraordinary means of cheering you up.”

Despite the promise of an enjoyable evening ahead of her, her day went from bad to worse. She was so distracted that Logan finally ordered her away from the equipment. “The mood you're in, you're downright dangerous out here. If you don't hurt yourself, you're likely to ruin half the crop. Get away for a bit. Go for a walk. Go for a swim. We can manage without you.”

She knew he was right, but the dismissal did nothing to improve that awful feeling of being abandoned and useless. If anything, it compounded it. She wasn't even needed on her own farm anymore.

She walked down to the stream, kicked off her shoes and waded along the edge but couldn't seem to work up the energy to go for a swim. When she tired of that, she went back to the house, made a pitcher of lemonade and took a glass out to the front porch, letting the self-pity build until it threatened to engulf her. In all her life it was something she had rarely permitted, but this time she wasn't sure she had the will to fight it off.

The sky grew darker, the air oppressively still. Finally the ominous signs registered.

“Oh, dear heaven,” she said softly. She ran inside to tune the radio to a weather channel. As she expected, they were announcing the sightings of tornadoes and warning residents in the area to take cover at the first sign of one of the dangerous funnel clouds.

Surely Logan and the others had left the fields by now, she thought, then decided she couldn't take any chances. She would have to warn them. Wrapping herself in a yellow waterproof cape, she ran along the track to the field where she had left Logan. Fat drops of rain began to fall, scattered at first and then with more insistency. Long before the men were in sight, her hair was drenched, her shoes soaked through and caked with mud.

“Logan!” she shouted as soon as she thought her voice would carry to him. “Get the equipment inside. Tornadoes have been sighted.”

He waved her back. “I just want to get this last little bit harvested before the storm breaks, Ms. Danvers. Shouldn't take more than another ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Don't risk it. A few rows of corn aren't worth it.”

“You get on back to the house. I'll have everything back in the barn before you know it.”

“Logan!”

“Go on, missy. We're not going to lose this corn.”

“Then I'm staying to help. It's my responsibility.”

He scowled at her. “We don't need your help. There's no sense all of us staying out here getting wetter than a bunch of ducks. While you and I stand here arguing, I could be finishing up.”

Lara reluctantly gave in and started back to the house. She was barely at the edge of the field when she heard the loud roar that could have been a train rattling along nearby tracks. But there was no railroad, and she knew well what the ominous sound meant. She whirled around and scanned the sky and found exactly what she feared: a huge, dark funnel cloud, twirling debris up from the land. Where it skimmed the earth, it was a tight, black column. But as it reached toward the sky, it expanded into a wide swirl that dipped and swayed like some evil prankster.

“Dear God,” she breathed in horrified fascination, unable to tear her gaze away from the tornado's relentless path toward her. At last she came to her senses, recalling that she should be inside, away from glass. Terrified now, she raced through the house to the storm cellar. She flipped on the cellar lights, but they flickered, then died as the sound of the approaching tornado increased to ear-shattering levels. Without taking the time to search for a flashlight, she felt her way down the stairs.

In the basement she found a stack of old blankets and sat down. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them and waited, her pulse beating erratically. What little light penetrated the darkness from the two high windows on the opposite side of the room began to fade until the room was pitch black. The whole earth seemed to tremble then. The house creaked on its foundation. And a deep shudder swept through Lara.

She had seen tornadoes before, witnessed the aftermath of their wild fury, but never had she been caught in the middle of one. Never had she known this choking fear that came from having her own fate wrested from her control by a willful force of nature. She could do nothing to hold back the inevitable destruction, nothing even to lessen it. She could only pray.

She thanked God that Jennifer and Kelly were not here to suffer this agonizing torment of waiting for whatever might strike. She prayed desperately that Steven was someplace safe and secure, that Logan and the men had reached the relative safety of the barn. And she prayed that she would survive to experience once more the depth of Steven's love. She wouldn't be defeated by everything that had happened. She would, rather, fight for a better future. With Steven back in her life, happiness was finally within her grasp. She suffered another pang of regret that she had allowed her black mood to spoil even one moment of their time together.

The terrible sound of the storm rumbled on. Rain continued to lash the house, whipping branches from the trees and throwing them against the roof. Still she waited, knowing that until the storm's fury fully abated the danger was not past. She saw occasional flashes of lightning through the windows, heard echoing cracks of thunder. There was another rumbling at a distance, then another. Perhaps it was only thunder, but it was frightening nonetheless. Each one seemed to wrench her insides, leaving her cold and shivering. Her imagination ran wild, taking up where reality left off. She fought against wasted tears, knowing there wouldn't be a moment's peace for her until she could see for herself that Steven and the others had survived.

And the farm. What damage was it suffering? Would there even be corn left to harvest once the storm had its way? Would the debt she had struggled so long and hard to reduce mount again with no crops to meet the loan payment?

Suddenly it was all too much for her. The emotional intensity of the last week caught up with her, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. Angrily she brushed them away, but more followed.

She'd thought she was so blasted independent, that she didn't need anyone. For years now she'd managed her life, this farm, but she realized now that's all it had been: managing. She'd done what was expected of her, but she hadn't been fulfilled and happy. She'd been out to prove herself, perhaps even hoping to show Steven how little his betrayal had affected her.

What a sham! In no more than a few days he'd shown her exactly how much she still needed him to fire her senses, to share her successes, simply to care. She was strong. She'd had to be. She knew now that she could survive anything. But she was not so strong that she didn't require love. No one was ever that independent.

Her tears spent at last, she got up and went over to one of the high windows to see what was happening outside. She pulled over a chair and stepped up on it. Just as she did, there was another explosion of sound, the shattering of glass and then...nothing.

* * *

Steven had been in his study when the storm broke. He tried calling Lara as soon as he heard the tornado warnings, but the phone lines were already down. His first instinct had been to drive to the farm, but Mrs. Marston had stopped him at the front door.

“You won't do that girl a bit of good if your car is picked up, turned on its roof and set down in the next county,” she scolded. “Now don't you go being foolish, Mr. Drake. You built that fancy storm cellar downstairs just for an occasion like this. Get on down there, and I'll make you a pot of tea, and we can wait this out.”

He saw the wisdom in her advice, but he chafed at the waiting. He paced the cellar, listening to the wrath of the wind, his muscles knotted in frustration. When Mrs. Marston offered him tea, he growled at her.

“What if she's out in the fields and can't get back?”

“That girl has lived in these parts a whole lot longer than you have. She knows all about these storms. I'm sure she's not taking any chances.”

“You're very calm about this,” he accused.

“No point in getting myself all riled up. There's not a thing you or I can do to stop whatever's going to happen.”

“I'm not sure I'm in the mood to discuss your fatalistic approach to life. I'd rather be doing something.”

He caught her grinning at him, though she took a quick swallow of tea to cover it. “Why don't you put up those shelving units you bought, as long as you're down here?”

He gave her a fierce scowl.

“Well, it was just an idea,” she huffed right back at him.

He took up pacing again, his nerves tightening with each crash of thunder. When one of the basement windows was shattered by a storm-tossed tree branch, he whirled around and headed for the steps.

“That does it! I'm going after her. She could be in danger over there.”