Return to Marker Ranch (15 page)

When he put the truck in Park, Lori looked up at him, her deep eyes such a contrast to her fair hair. Like ocean and sunlight. She looked beautiful and sophisticated in her dark wool dress and high heels, her hair slicked back into a neat ponytail, but he kind of missed her usual tousled mop busting out from under her old brown cowgirl hat.

He swallowed hard. This was it. He was going to lay it all out there and hope he was reading this crazy day right. “I want to date you, Lori. I want to take you out and spend time with you. I want to get to know you, get to know us, as we are now. I promised I'd be there for you as a friend, and I swear, if you don't want to go out with me I will shut up and be that friend to you. But I want much more.”

Her hand came up, small, strong and calloused. She brushed her knuckles along his jaw, and he tried to memorize the look in her pretty eyes. Searching his, wanting something, giving something. “I want that, too.”

His heart was leaping but he tried to play it cool. “I haven't asked a girl out for a long time. What would be good? Dinner?”

“Too much pressure.” She smiled up at him. “How about something really simple. A movie? And then we can grab a drink after, and if we run out of things to say we can just talk about the film.”

He laughed. “Sounds perfect. You want to go tonight?”

“Sure,” she said, glancing at him shyly.

“You choose the movie and let me know when to come pick you up.”

“Okay,” she said and pulled her hands away to reach for her purse.

But he didn't want her gone. “I know it was only a ride home,” he said, “but is there any way...” He paused. How did he do this without sounding lame? He gave up. “Can I kiss you? Goodbye?”

She flushed—dusky rose that made her cheeks glow a little.

“It's okay if you don't...”

She cut him off with a hand at his jaw, and her lips over his. It was heaven—better than that—a blast of warmth straight to his iced-over heart, and he threaded his fingers gently through hers and kissed her back, slowly, carefully, finding his way through the emotions that kept his tears from church so close to the surface. He concentrated on the impossible softness of her lips, and on the velvet of her skin when he traced a thumb gently over her cheekbone.

He pulled away, aware suddenly of his breathing and hers, quick and audible in the still world inside the cab of his truck. So much desire, but he wanted to take this slow. No way was he going to mess up and remind her of the callous kid he'd been.

He took all the want and shoved it away somewhere inside. And kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I'll see you tonight.”

“Looking forward to it.” She kissed him one last time, lightly, lingering with their lips barely touching. He breathed her in, cherishing the gift. Then she gave his hand a light squeeze and slipped out of the truck.

He watched her walk, her quiet confidence apparent even in her pumps and pretty church dress. She gave him a little wave from the porch and then disappeared inside her house. He turned the truck around and headed home, thanking God, and especially Mandy, because when he woke up this morning he hadn't dared to dream that this could happen.

Partway to his house, he pulled over on a side road, dirt and rutted, heading pretty much nowhere, and parked. He hiked a little way out, through the sagebrush, the prickly chollas and the high desert scrub that thrived in the neglected pastures of Marker Ranch. He jumped up onto a big chunk of granite and let out the whoop he'd been holding in ever since those kisses in the truck. His voice was startling, like a big rock plunked into the still pond of desert air, rippling out in circles until it dissipated into the dry silence.

And then he sat down and sunk his head into his hands, letting the emotion of the morning finally come. Tears of gratitude and brand-new hope streaming down his face, falling onto the parched soil like rain.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

D
AMN
,
SHE
LOOKED
BEAUTIFUL
. Even in the neon light under the movie marquee, Lori glowed with irresistible golden health and strength. A surge of pride had Wade squaring his shoulders. She was here with him. She was his date. Which made him the luckiest guy on this planet. He put an arm gently around her and felt another thrill. “Ready?” he asked.

“Next stop, popcorn,” she told him. “My treat.”

“No way. This is our first official date. Ever. I get to buy.” When he saw her jaw set at that familiar stubborn angle, he resorted to pleading. “You can pay another time, I promise. But right now I want to take you on a totally traditional, guy-paying date.”

She laughed. “Is that why you brought me flowers?”

“Of course. Isn't that what you do on a first date? Show up on the doorstep with flowers for your girl?”

She laughed and leaned into him. He could barely keep his grin from going ear to ear, which probably made him look like a total idiot. He didn't care. She felt so good tucked against him, he hoped she'd let him hold her this way through the entire film.

There was a short line for the popcorn, and of course Lori knew pretty much everyone in it. He'd met a few of the people at church this morning, and a few he recognized from high school. Wade braced himself for the dirty looks, the snide comments about his family, but they didn't come. A few handshakes, a backslap or two, and they had their popcorn and were heading into the dark of the theater to find their seats.

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” Lori asked as they sat down. “Thankfully not everyone in this town is a Tabitha.”

Wade grinned. “She's something else. But you know, I was kind of glad she said that stuff. I need to get a thicker skin. People are going to say things sometimes, and I have to be able to deal with it.”

Lori set her popcorn down and took his hand, turning a little in her seat to face him. “I'm sorry people are like that.”

“I try not to let it bug me, but sometimes it sucks to have spent every day of the past decade so far away from the path my family took, and yet people still judge me like I'm one of them.”

“I think they just have old information. Once they realize who you are now, and all that you've done with your life, it will stop.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.” A quick epiphany had him smiling. “Maybe I should think of this time as payback for the trouble I caused as a kid. A little justice.”

“Can I ask what you did?”

“Mostly stupid stuff. Graffiti. Swiping a beer from the liquor store. I'd stolen a couple of cars. It all came crashing down when I hot-wired the vice principal's car and took it for a joyride. I chained it up to a tree in a stupid prank. I got caught and they kicked me out of school. I don't blame them. I
was
heading down a bad path. It was a good wake-up call.”

“That's when Nora showed up to take you to Reno with her.”

“And you and I spent that night together. Which was a dream come true, by the way. I'll never understand why you chose to come with me that night. How I got so lucky. And I know it had awful consequences, but I loved being with you. You should know that.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I loved that night, too.”

He picked up her hand and brushed his lips softly over her fingers. “I turned it around when I left. I got into a new school and repeated my senior year because I hadn't passed my classes here. I had Nora watching me like a hawk, and it saved me.”

“Your sister has always seemed like such a good person.”

“She saved my life more than once.”

“I never thought of you as like your older brothers. Or your dad,” Lori said quietly. “Not when we were growing up, at least. You were smart and nice to me, and I liked you. I had a crush on you forever. But after you left, I was so mad, and I did lump you in with them. It felt better just to think of you that way.” She paused, bit her lower lip. “I just thought you should know.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in. “I get it. It makes sense after the way I treated you. But I hope I can make you think better of me from now on.”

“I know you can.” She put her arm across his chest and leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the best answer he could hope for.

He hugged her back. Kissed her hair one more time. And then the lights went down and the previews started, and she pulled away and reached for the popcorn.

Wade took a deep breath and let it out as quietly as he could in the sudden dark. It was the first time he'd been in a movie theater in years. He felt himself becoming slightly more vigilant, his eyes darting, seeking exits, suddenly wanting to know exactly who was around him in the shadowed theater.

It's just a movie. Movies happen in the dark.
His heart thudded too quickly and he breathed deep, trying to slow it.

The preview was for a holiday film. Totally innocent, but just the size of the images in front of him, the speed they flickered across the screen, the dialogue booming out of the speakers were assaults to his senses. He shifted uneasily in his seat. His palms were starting to sweat.
Get a grip. They're just pictures on a screen. They mean nothing.

Lori held the popcorn out to him in a sudden motion, and he started a little. Then took a handful and whispered his thanks. He sat there in the dark, staring at seats in front of him, concentrating on the buttery, salty taste of the popcorn. The crunch of it in his mouth. But it felt dry as dust on his tongue. Furtively he dropped his handful onto the floor and worked on slowing the rapid-fire thud of his heart, forcing each breath to move evenly in and out of his lungs. He dug his fingers into his thigh—the pain was a welcome distraction. He counted backward from a hundred to keep his mind busy. He pressed his feet into the floor to stay grounded.

The previews ended and the movie started. A rookie cop with a crooked boss. They were at the firing range, and the shots had Wade flinching. Sweat, clammy on his forehead, trickled in ominous threads down his back.

Then across the screen a bus crashed and sirens ignited and he was out of his seat, pushing blindly past Lori, past the knees of the people in their row, their protests muffled by the thrumming in his head, the roar of his own breathing in his ears mixing with the screams and chaos of the movie. He lunged through the lobby, shoved through the glass doors and out into the crisp fall night. He was halfway up the block before he remembered where he was and who he was supposed to be with.

He stopped in front of the old courthouse, its granite facade rising ghostly white in the night sky, and put his hands to his knees as he fought for breath. Glancing around, his only comfort was that no one was out for a stroll right now. He sank down on the lonely sidewalk and leaned his back against a lamppost, grateful for the solid ground. How the hell had he come to this?
Pathetic.
Self-hatred ran like thick acid in his veins. This wasn't him. So weak he couldn't even take his girl to the movies.

He closed his eyes and let the night air, iced with coming winter, chill the sweat and cool the burn in his lungs and chest.

Breathe in and out, in and out.
Dr. Miller had given him some pills for moments like this. Groping blindly at his side where his pocket should be, he realized he'd left his jacket in the theater.

“Wade?”

He opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to face what had to be faced. Lori was standing a dozen yards away, holding out his jacket.

“Hey.” His voice was rough, like he'd been screaming.

She walked up slowly, warily, like she was approaching a stray dog, and held out his jacket from a safe distance. “Why don't you put this on?”

He wanted the cold. Wanted it to freeze the demons in his head. To still the fingernails they ran over his chalkboard spine. He put the jacket down next to him on the pavement.

“These fell out.” Lori held up the pill bottle. “I'm sorry, I know it's private, but they landed on the sidewalk when I ran outside the theater.”

She'd had to chase him. And now she knew about the pills.

A strange relief settled over him. An acceptance of what had to happen next. Bitterness curled the edges of his tongue. “I'm messed up, Lori.”

She moved a little closer and held out the pills again. “Take one.” She pulled a small bottle of water from her pocket with her other hand. “I ran back in the theater and got this when I realized.”

He didn't take either bottle. “Realized that I'm totally screwed up?”

“No! You're not screwed up. You have medicine you need to take. So take it.” Her voice went firm. “Now.”

He reached out and took both bottles. He hated popping a pill in front of her but did it anyway. It wouldn't fix much, but if it could take the edge off the clawing anxiety, maybe he'd find the courage to say what needed to be said. The water was tepid, perfect. So neutral sliding down his throat and into the chaos inside.

Lori sat down across from him in the puddle of lamplight, her blond hair haloed. An angel sitting close, but totally out of reach now. Her dark eyes wide with worry that he'd put there. Again.

“I'm sorry,” he said finally. “I thought I could handle a movie like that. I kinda wish you'd picked a chick flick.”

A smile flitted across her face. “You thought I'd pick one of those for my first date with you? That doesn't seem like the way to get a second date.”

He smiled faintly, loving that she could find a way to add a little humor into the most horrible situations. Then he remembered what he had to say and the smile was gone. “We can't have a second date.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lori, I'm messed up. Really messed up. I should have told you a long time ago.” There. It was out.

“Tell me what you mean.” She leaned in and took his cold hands. Tried to warm them with her small ones.

His throat closed up, so it took sheer will to force the truth out.

“A couple of months ago, when I first came back to the ranch, I lost my mind a little.”

Her hands went to her mouth. “Oh no, Wade...”

She didn't finish her sentence, and he didn't blame her. What was there to say to that, really? “I was clearing out a shed on the ranch. A local rancher came by and told me my dad had stolen cattle from him years ago. He demanded that I reimburse him. Told me he was thinking of taking me to court if I didn't. When he left, I lost it. I started drinking and I don't remember much after that. Nora found me, throwing stolen stuff everywhere—bikes, car parts, all flying through the air. I was screaming like a crazy person. I broke a window.”

She was watching him solemnly, knees tucked up, arms wrapped around them.

“So she and Todd got me to calm down, and they called Dr. Miller out. He said I have PTSD. From the stress of being in combat.” He took the bottle of pills back out of his pocket. “I've been taking medication ever since. Antidepressants, and these for when the anxiety gets really bad.”

“That's good,” she said softly. “You're dealing with it.”

“Just barely. Tonight in the movie was bad. Like the sounds and pictures were coming right through my skin.”

“But you're getting help,” she insisted. “I'm sure it takes time.”

“That's the thing. It does take time. But I don't know how much.” He swallowed hard. “And in the meantime, I can't seem to control my behavior. I can't even take you on a goddamn date. You deserve someone who can be there for you, Lori. Not someone like me. Someone broken.”

“I don't want anyone else. I want us to be together. To go to church like we did this morning. To ride and work on our ranches. I don't care if we see movies or not. I don't care about that stuff.”

She was too kind. Too good. She'd taken care of her dad and her sister for years, and now she was trying to take care of him, too. After all he'd put her through. “The memory of me, and the situation I left you with, was a huge burden for you. I don't want to be a burden now. Again.”

She squeezed his hand. “It's
my
choice who I want to be with. Why are you pushing me away? Are you embarrassed?”

“Partly, yeah.” His voice broke a little. “I hate that you're seeing me this way.”

She bit her lower lip as if looking for the right words. “Remember the night outside the bar? When I cried all over you?”

“Of course,” he told her.

“I was embarrassed then. And I still am. No one in the world has seen me like that, sobbing hysterically. Just you. And sometimes it's scary to know that you've seen me that way. It makes me feel vulnerable.”

He took her hand. “Knowing what you've overcome, the pain you've had to work through, makes you seem stronger to me.”

“Well, knowing what you've been dealing with all this time makes
you
seem stronger to
me
. You've had to overcome so much, even back when we were young. PTSD has nothing to do with being weak. It just means that you experienced a lot of bad stuff in the war, and your brain can't figure out how to process it.”

He was silent, considering her words. She elbowed him playfully. “Plus, I refuse to let you break this off because you couldn't see a movie. That's just lame. Especially since I almost never go to the movies.”

He couldn't help but smile at that. Maybe it was the medication kicking in, or her understanding working its magic, but he was feeling better. So they wouldn't go to movie theaters. Like her, he'd never gone to them very often, either.

He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I have no idea what I did to deserve your loyalty.”

“I don't think it's any one thing you did,” she told him. “I think it's just who we are. Besides—” she grinned up at him “—you still have all my water, remember? I have to be nice to you.”