The Secrets of Rosa Lee (29 page)

M
icah left Sloan, promising to meet everyone at the Main Street Café at four. He drove straight to Randi's bar knowing he had to talk to her before he allowed any more time to slip by. He parked in the empty lot and fought the wind as he walked to the front door.

The hairy old biker who acted as bartender stood behind the bar. Micah swore the man growled at him when he fought to close the door against the cold.

“I need to see Randi,” Micah said.

Frankie shrugged.

Micah put his hand on the pass-through opening. “Maybe I should say I'm going to see Randi.” He guessed the bartender would make about double his own weight and, from the tattoos and scars, the man could probably flatten him with his breath, but Micah had to try. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

Frankie shook his head. “Not me, but she will. You're getting too close, Preacher, and Randi don't let no one close.”

Micah stepped behind the bar and opened the office door. “Thanks for the warning.”

Randi sat at the desk, a pencil stuck behind one ear and papers scattered everywhere. When she looked up, she smiled. “Micah. Is something wrong?”

He closed the door and moved around the desk. “Nothing's wrong.” He took her hand and led her to the hallway behind her office. “I just didn't want to wait any longer to do this.”

He leaned against her, cupping her face with his hands, and kissed her.

For a moment, he felt surprise, shock, hesitance, then he felt surrender. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight as their world began to spin. He kissed her long and hard and hungry as he'd ached to do since she'd first touched him.

He'd lied to himself thinking friendship would be enough, or holding her while they danced was all he needed. He needed Randi, all of her.

When neither of them could breathe, they broke the kiss laughing, but their hands still moved over one another, learning every part of the other.

“We better go upstairs, Micah,” she whispered. “The hallway's really not a good place to do what I plan to do with you.”

He whispered in her ear as his hand gripped her hip. “I think you're right.” He kissed her lightly. “I need you so much.”

“It took you long enough to figure that out.” She laughed. “You could have had me that first night after we put the sisters to bed.”

He held her tight, closed his eyes and took a long breath. If she kept talking, kept melting against him, it was going to be hard to say all he'd come to say. “No, Randi, I need you with me. All the time.”

“We could keep it like it is. You could come by at night. We could spend time every night.”

He pulled an inch away. “No, Randi. If we're going to be together, we're together in daylight and darkness.”

He felt her pull away even though he knew she hadn't moved. “You don't know what that would be like, Micah. It could be the end of your job. People would talk. People always talk.”

“Then we'd face them together.”

She shook her head, her wild hair brushing the side of his face. “I can't.”

He wasn't ready to give up. He held her tighter. “Randi. I need you, not just in my bed, but by my side. Randi, stand with me.”

“No,” she whispered. “I can't.”

He kissed her long and tender then, and she let him, but she no longer kissed him back.

When he pulled away, he said, “Today I realized love slammed into me when I met you. I wasn't looking for it. I'm not even sure I know how to react to it. But I know that life with you has got to be better than life without you.” He dug his fists into her hair. “I love you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “I love you, too,” she answered.

“Then walk with me, Randi. Walk out of here and let's go for coffee, or just stroll down the street together. I don't want to hide what I feel for you. If you want me, you got to take all of me, just like I want all of you. I'm not a man who can come to you in pieces, so step out on my arm and we'll face the town.”

“I can't.”

He straightened, afraid if he said more he'd be begging her to love him. She said the words, but she didn't mean them. She wasn't willing to take a chance and the sad thing was, he knew her well enough to understand why. She'd been broken too many times to believe.

“Love doesn't slam into a person more than once in a lifetime. We need to hold on to it.”

“I can't.” She turned away hugging herself. “I won't.”

“I never took you for a coward,” he whispered. He straightened, memorizing the lines of her face as he moved away and stepped out the back door.

Micah didn't notice the cold as he walked. The years of running had left him with a sense of where things were in the town. Before he knew it, he'd walked to the back of Cemetery Road where his shoes began to slip on the icy snow. He'd been so angry, so confused, so afraid that he couldn't survive more pain in his life, that he hadn't thought of the cold or where he'd been heading.

The first love in his life had come so easily, it had never occurred to Micah that love might be hard to give. No matter what their problems were, they could work them out together. But, Randi had been hurt one too many times in her life. She didn't believe in love, in him. Micah couldn't figure out if he was being naive in believing they could work, or if she was being cynical.

The weak sun he'd seen earlier was gone and the cloudy air now hung thick with moisture. He wished he had his running shoes, or better yet, his boots. Climbing up the incline folks in town laughingly called “the hill” had been easy, but now, with the half-melted snow freezing, it became treacherous.

Micah checked his watch. It was almost time to pick Logan up. Today was his day to do the carpool. He couldn't be late. He'd have just enough time to see everyone home safely, get Logan settled with Mrs. Mac, and make it back to the café for the meeting.
He would have had just enough time, if he were standing by his car right now, and not at the top of the hill on Cemetery Road.

With quick steps, he started down the hill. Just as the sight of Randi's place came into view, a piece of ice gave way and his foot slipped. Micah fell, rolling into the ditch,
landing against one of the barbed-wire poles that ran along the border of the cemetery.

The pain in his knee was crippling. Micah lay in the mud for a few minutes wondering how he could have been such a fool. All his life he'd been a careful runner. One of those people who always stretched before he ran, made sure his shoes were right, checked for traffic patterns. In the past week, he'd become an idiot.

He tried to get up, but found he couldn't put very much pressure on the knee. It's not broken, he told himself, only twisted. He'd twisted his ankle a few times. He knew what to do.

Micah almost laughed as he said out loud, “Put ice on it.”

He stretched in the mud and tried to relax. Maybe if he let it relax a few minutes it would feel better. The only problem was, the back of his jacket that had been wet from the water in the ditch was now freezing solid. He held to the pole and pulled himself to his feet. Or foot. Maybe he could hop along the fence line for a while. Surely, someone would come along soon.

“I
say we go over and start looking without him. We said we'd all meet here at four and go on to the Altman house,” Ada May said. “Everyone is here but the preacher.”

“We'll have another cup of coffee and give him a few more minutes. He has to pick up his son. Maybe something is delaying him.” Sidney picked up the papers she'd spread across the table. They'd all looked at the two death certificates, but no one had come up with an answer, except that this might be the secret of Rosa Lee.

Sidney didn't think so. Why would her granny Minnie write a note on the back of a card that concerned when a man had died? What did it matter to anyone except maybe Rosa Lee and Henry Altman?

Sloan stood beside Sidney's chair. “I left Micah at his car right out front. He said he had to make a stop before he picked up his son.” Sloan was thinking out loud and pretty much talking to himself. “It would probably be the store, or the church. I'll run over there and look for him. Maybe he's had car trouble. If I'm not back soon take the others and go on over to the Altman Place.”

Sidney agreed. “We'll go inside and start the search.”

After Sloan left, everyone had another cup of coffee, but no one settled down. Sidney felt the same. She wanted one last look at the house before the vote. Even if she found
no answers, she planned to take the time memorizing all she could of the old place.

At ten till five, she collected the cups and told everyone to bundle up. They all marched out into thick fog. Billy rode with Lora. Sidney rode with the sisters. Everyone had flashlights.

When they pulled up in front of the house, Sheriff Granger Farrington was waiting for them.

She didn't miss the worried look the sheriff gave her. While the others went inside, she asked Granger, “You think something may have happened to Micah?” The memory of Billy's beaten body flashed in her thoughts.

Granger nodded once. “Sloan's already called me. Micah is probably fine, but just to be safe, I'll make a few calls and get back to you. He shouldn't be too hard to find.” He tried to smile.

Sidney followed the others into the house. They needed to look before it got dark, but with the cold no one would want to stay long.

Once inside, she organized everyone into search groups. “Look everywhere for a wooden rose.”

They all pointed their flashlights and parted to their separate rooms.

The sheriff was back before Sidney had left the entry. “I called the church. Nancy said he hadn't been there but the school called saying he didn't show up for the carpool. She said she went over and got the boys and took Logan to Jimmy's house. She sounded worried. Micah's never late.”

“Where could he be?” Sidney frowned knowing this meeting would have been important to Micah.

“I've got an idea.” The sheriff punched in his cell and
stepped out on the porch. After a minute, he stepped back in. “We've found his car. Maybe he just had trouble getting it started. He's probably walking this way now.”

M
icah decided he might very likely freeze to death. He could have made it home limping if there had been no snow, but he couldn't slip across the ice on one good leg. His only hope was that someone would come along Cemetery Road and in the past hour it hadn't happened. His leg was no longer hurting, it was frozen. And the fog had moved in until he couldn't see any part of Randi's place down the hill.

He thought of yelling for help, but knew there were no houses close enough for anyone to hear even if someone was standing outside.

In the fog, he heard a car and tried to make it the three feet to the road. But the ditch was just steep enough not to allow much progress.

The car drove up the road, inching its way over the ice.

Micah grabbed a rock and threw it at the car. He heard it hit metal.

He tossed another handful of mud and rock against the side of the car before it could pass.

He heard the car stop and said her name. Then, Randi was there, running toward him with her arms open wide. They almost tumbled back into the ditch, but her footing held more solid than his.

She hugged him tightly and he felt the warmth of her spread through him.

Then she pulled away, all fire and anger. “What in the hell do you think you're doing out here! I've been crazy with worry.”

He laughed, pulling her back to him. “I was taking a walk. Do you think you could save yelling at me until we get in the car where, I hope, your heater works.”

She helped him into the passenger side.

He carefully lifted his leg, trying not to bend it at the knee.

“What happened?” she cried. “You're hurt.”

He laughed. “I'll be fine if I don't freeze.”

She ran around to her side and turned up the heater.

For a long minute, he let the warm air blow over him, feeling his blood thaw. She helped him remove his wet coat and wrapped him in an old blanket she pulled from the back seat. Through it all and despite the cold, he noticed her touching him, reassuring herself that he was with her and safe.

“Thanks,” he said, then leaned back and closed his eyes. “Before you start telling me what a fool I am, let me assure you I already know. First, I try to force you into loving me, then I think I can walk my problems off without paying any attention to the weather.” He took a long breath. “I don't have any defense, except to say that until today I've never considered myself an idiot, so it's a relatively new illness.”

“Logan's at Jimmy's house,” she said calmly, her anger gone as fast as it came.

He smiled. “I knew he'd be smart enough to call Jimmy's mother or the church. He's got more brains than his old man.”

“And you didn't try to force me into loving you. I al
ready did. I've loved you from that first night when you looked so helpless trying to get the sisters home.”

He looked at her then. Wishing he understood her.

She laughed. “You've got mud on your face.” She leaned over and rubbed it off with her thumb. “You're a mess, Preacher.”

“That I am.”

“When I was out looking for you in this mess, I realized something.” She smiled. “I thought you wanted me because you saw me as a project, someone to help, someone to save. Now, I think maybe it's the other way around. You may not be all perfect. You might just need me.”

He brushed his thumb along her cheek. “More than you know.”