Читать книгу Luke's Daughters - Lynnette Kent - Страница 10

ERIN AND JEN were due back on a three-thirty flight. Luke knew his mom and dad would want a private reunion with the newlyweds and the girls, so he filled in the time baking a batch of his special cookies. At five, he headed for his parents’ house on the beach.

When he arrived, Kristin’s green van was parked in the driveway. Luke deliberately relaxed his grip on the handlebars. The girls were still here. He hadn’t missed them.

Taking a deep breath, he switched off the bike and removed his helmet. He only wanted to see his daughters. Everybody could manage to stay cool for their sakes. Right?

Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, Luke decided to ring the bell instead of walking right in. Which was smart, he realized, when his mother opened the door.

Her blue eyes widened. “Oh…Luke. Hello. We weren’t…expecting you.”

“I wanted to welcome the girls home—”

A rush of footsteps sounded in the hallway behind his mother.

“Daddeee!” Jennifer launched herself into his arms. “We’re home!”

“Good to see you, Jenny Penny.” He hugged tight, trying to keep the bag of cookies intact, squeezing his eyes shut against tears.

Someone else tackled him at waist level. “Daddy, me, too. Me, too!”

So much for the cookies. “You, too, Bear.” He stooped to lift Erin up as well. “How was Mickey Mouse?”

“He’s big! This big!” Jen opened her arms wide. “I like Goofy better.”

Erin stared at him, frowning. “Where’s your hair, Daddy? What happened to your ponytail?”

“I got a haircut, Bear. I’m back on my regular job for a while.”

“It looks funny.”

Luke laughed. “Thanks. What did you do at Disney World?”

“I got my picture taken with Aladdin and the Genie, and Pinocchio and Hercules!” Erin counted on her fingers. “And Donald Duck!”

“Very cool.” His mother had closed the door and disappeared. Luke carried the girls into the living room, sat down on the couch and perched one of them on each knee. “What ride did y’all like best?”

That answer involved a serious discussion of all the rides they’d taken and the high points of each. Luke studied their faces as the girls traded ideas. They were a little browner than last week. The outfits they wore looked new.

He touched a bandage on Erin’s knee. “What happened here?”

Erin laughed. “We went on the teacup ride and it went ’round and ’round and ’round. And when I got off I was so dizzy I couldn’t walk, and I bumped into the edge of a bench.”

“You cried.” Jen pointed out.

“Just a little. You cried when the whale splashed you.”

“Well, you cried when—”

“Hold it.” Luke squeezed them both around the waist. “I get the picture. Did you go on Peter Pan’s Flight? That was your favorite when we went to the Magic Kingdom, Erin.”

“We went to Disney World before?”

“Sure, you and your mom and me. Jen was still a baby, but she came, too. We have…had pictures, remember? You and me in the boat, getting ready to fly?”

She shook her blond head. “Uh-uh. But we rode it this time. Jen was scared we would fall.”

Luke chuckled. “That’s what you thought when we went, too.”

“So there.” Jennifer stuck her tongue out at her sister.

“Jennifer Irene Brennan.” Kristin stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “That’s rude and unkind and you will apologize to your sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Jen muttered.

“Ha-ha,” Erin taunted.

Luke shook her gently. “You don’t hit somebody when they’re down, Erin. You know that.”

She hung her head. “I know, Daddy.”

“I came in to tell you that Grandmother has supper just about ready.” Kristin’s voice was firm. “Go wash your hands.”

“Oh, boy!” The girls dashed past their mother into the back of the house. Luke stood up, the meeting he’d been dreading suddenly unavoidable.

“Hi, Luke.” The sun had streaked her hair and deepened her tan.

He cleared his throat. “Kristin.”

“Your…haircut looks good.”

“Thanks. I guess you had lots of sun in Florida.”

“Not a single rainy day. Do you want to stay for supper?”

“That’s okay. I just came to say hi to the girls.” He held out the bag of cookies. “I brought some dessert, though they’re probably mostly crumbs at this point.”

Her smile flashed and was gone. “Good over ice cream.” After a pause, she cleared her throat. “We’ve got some pictures—come and see.” She almost took his hand but then, with a self-conscious blush, turned and led the way into the back of his parents’ house.

Luke dragged in a breath and followed warily.

Matt and his dad sat in the family room beyond the kitchen. Their conversation stopped abruptly when Luke stepped in. The Colonel stood up. “Good to see you, son—and good to see that damn hair cut right for a change. How’s the security business?” His dad thought a real man’s place was in the Army. Cops were on the same level with building guards.

“We do our best,” Luke answered. “Have you had a good week?” The scent of apple-laced tobacco flavored the air.

“As good as usual.”

“Except that you were exhausted for several days,” Elena Brennan corrected. “I’m still not sure you’re up to par.”

The Colonel took a deep pull on his pipe. “All the excitement of the wedding, I guess.”

Luke could sympathize, though excitement wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe his own reaction. He turned his head to meet his brother’s stare. “Welcome home.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks.”

So much for the formalities. Luke walked back to the kitchen.

“Are you staying, Luke?” His mother turned from the counter where a baked ham and her homemade bread stood waiting. “I can make more sandwiches.”

“No, thanks, Mom. I just came to say hi to Erin and Jen.” He sat down at the kitchen table with the girls. “So tell me what else you did in Florida.”

Kristin brought a box of pictures over and Luke listened as Erin and Jenny explained each one.

“That’s me and Daddy Matt on the log ride.”

“Me and Mommy with Cinderella.”

“We got a lady to take this one of Mommy and Daddy Matt and me and Jen in front of Cinderella’s castle. Isn’t it neat?”

He agreed that it was indeed neat, wondering how each mention of “Daddy Matt” could cut deeper than the one before.

Erin looked around. “Mommy, where’s the big picture?”

Elena Brennan answered. “I’ve already hung it on the wall, honey. Right above the television.”

“Come see, Daddy. Come see.” Erin took Luke by the hand and pulled him over to the wall filled with four decades of Brennan family photos. “Isn’t it neat? We got all dressed up!”

“Great picture,” he managed to reply, his voice rougher than he’d intended. The girls wore long dresses of white lacy stuff. Kristin’s dress was a red that drew light to her hair and deepened the brown of her eyes. The three of them sat on an old-fashioned velvet sofa, with Matt in a suit and tie leaning over them. As Luke glanced down the wall he saw that the photos had been rearranged. Pictures of himself and Kristin with the girls had been moved to a bottom corner in the wide display.

“Supper’s ready,” his mother called.

Luke knelt in front of Erin. “I’m gonna take off and let you eat. Give me a hug.”

She flung her arms around his neck. “I missed you, Daddy.”

“I missed you, too, Erin Bear. I’m glad you’re home.”

“When can we come to your house?”

He took a deep breath. “I’ll give your mom a call and we’ll figure that out. Sometime this week, okay?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. But soon, I promise.” Erin held his hand tightly as they went back into the kitchen. The rest of the family sat around the table, with Jen on the far side. “Guess I’ll just wave to you, Jenny Penny. See you later, okay?”

“No, wait, Daddy!” She started sliding out of her chair.

“Why don’t you just stay in your chair, Jennifer, honey.” His mother, next to Jen, put a hand out. “There’s really not enough room…”

But Jen solved that problem. She crawled under the table and came out in front of him. “Don’t go, Daddy!”

Luke picked her up and hugged her close. “I have to, Jen. I—I have to go to work.” Eventually, anyway. “But I promise I’ll see you real soon.” He looked over at Kristin as he spoke. She stared at her plate, with her lower lip caught tight between her teeth.

When he tried to set Jen down, she clung tighter. No words. Just a limpet clasp.

Finally, Kristin got up. “Jenny, love, let go.” The little girl shook her head. Her mother put her hands around the small waist, sliding them between Jen and Luke’s chest. Somehow, he stood there without moving a muscle. “Let go, Jenny.”

The stranglehold released. Luke loosened his arms, and Jen and Kristin stepped away. “Thanks,” he said, avoiding everybody’s eyes, keeping his face as neutral as he could. “Talk to y’all later.”

“Goodbye, son.” His dad alone replied.

Still calm, Luke reached his bike and settled on it, pulled on his gloves, put on his helmet. Turning the key, he pressed the starter and glided into motion. But he only got around the corner before he had to stop. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. His legs were shaking too much to be sure he kept his balance. He wondered if this kind of pain would be terminal.

And what the hell kind of life he’d have if it wasn’t.

SARAH HEARD the rumble of the bike’s motor despite the concrete walls of the photo shop. She smiled to herself. The last print was drying.

As she came out of the darkroom, though, she heard Chuck in the front of the shop, giving Luke a hard time.

“We don’t let just anyone into the back.”

“Good idea. If you’ll get Sarah, she’ll explain that I’m not just anyone. We have an appointment.”

“She’s in the darkroom. We’ll have to wait for her to come out.”

“And maybe I can do a fire inspection in the meantime. I’m sure all your permits and extinguishers and wiring are according to code and up to date.”

Sarah laughed and stepped through the curtained doorway. “He’s got you there, Chuck. When is the last time you bought a new extinguisher?”

“At least I bought one.” He brushed past her in the narrow space behind the counter. “If this place had been left to your absentee management, it would have fallen apart years ago!” The curtain swished behind him.

Sarah looked at Luke. “That’s my business partner. He doesn’t—” She registered the despair on his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He drew a deep breath that shook. “Sure. I’m…great.”

“You went to see your daughters, right? Did something happen?”

His hands went into his back pockets. “No bloodshed, anyway.”

Sarah didn’t insist on an explanation—he’d obviously been through enough today. “Come into the back. I’ve made some tea. We can look at the pictures.”

She lifted the hinged portion of the counter, then pulled the curtain aside as Luke stepped into the back room. In contrast to this morning, he seemed almost unsteady, as if he had to concentrate to keep from falling over.

“So you got the pictures developed?” His deep voice sounded weary.

“I did.” Chuck had disappeared behind the closed door of his office. She and Luke downed the iced tea she poured in a thirsty silence. Then she took his glass away. “Now, come tell me what you think.”

A step into the darkroom, he stopped dead. “Wow.”

Sarah smiled in satisfaction. His reaction was exactly what she’d hoped for.

He moved forward to stand in front of the largest print—an eighteen-by-twenty of Erin and Jennifer bent over the bait bucket. The balance of the shot was perfect, the light on those green-and-rose dresses like something out of a storybook illustration. And just as she’d hit the shutter button, a small breeze had fluffed out the girls’ lacy petticoats.

“This is…amazing. You’re really good.”

“Just lucky to be there when the three of you came out. All I had to do was snap pictures.”

“I don’t know enough about it to argue with you. But…wow.” He moved down the line, studying each print in turn. “I really like that one,” he said, pointing to a shot of the three of them laughing in the wind. “Could I have a copy?”

“I’ll copy them all for you. And for your family.”

“Nah.” He glanced at the photos of himself. “Don’t worry about any of those. Just the ones with the girls in them for the family. And a copy of the one with the three of us for me.” Under the white light, his cheeks looked a little red.

“But your parents—”

Luke shook his head. “Nope.” He went back to the first picture. “I can’t believe how great these are.”

Sarah propped her hip on a stool, letting him have the time he wanted. That gave her a chance to appreciate once again how solid his body was, how balanced. She’d seen models in art classes with less physique to recommend them. She’d certainly never sighed over any of them the way she wanted to sigh over Luke Brennan.

He turned around before she could. “I’m thinking I should pay you for these. Talent like yours doesn’t come cheap.”

“You’re right.” Sarah slipped to her feet. “So I’ll let you buy dinner. Deal?”

He grinned for the first time since he’d come into the shop. “Deal. Let’s go.”

LUKE HAD PARKED the Harley next to Sarah’s Jeep. “Do you want to take yours? You’d be more comfortable. I’ll even let you drive, in case my mind wanders again.”

She laughed. “That’s a good thought. But…” Stepping up to the bike, she ran her fingertips over the leather seat, the handlebar, the dash. “This is a really fine machine.”

He let out a relieved breath. Kristin had never liked his fascination with motorcycles. “Do you ride?”

Sarah nodded. “I used to. Went all the way to California from D.C. on Interstate 40 when I was eighteen.”

“I took a trip like that, on I-10. There was an incredible rainstorm outside New Orleans—I thought I was going to drown.”

“That happened to James and me, too. In Oklahoma City.”

Luke wondered if that meant a more personal relationship than he’d realized. But Sarah continued with her story. “We waited underneath an overpass while the water climbed up our ankles. I was pretty scared. But I got some great lightning shots.”

“I wasn’t exactly calm, myself.”

“Well, there’s no rain in today’s forecast.” She wasn’t wincing as much when she gave him a smile now, even a really wide one. “Could we take your bike?”

Luke pulled the extra helmet out of the saddlebag. “Be my guest.”

In seconds she had her hair tucked neatly into the helmet. He straddled the seat and then Sarah climbed on behind him, easily and smoothly as if she’d done it every day for years. She settled like a feather, barely affecting the weight or tilt of the bike.

Luke wished he could say she didn’t affect his equilibrium. But he felt every inch of her at his back. Her hands—free of bandages, though still scraped up—came to rest at his waist, and the light pressure heated his skin through his shirt like the sun at midday. He wasn’t used to being so close to any woman besides Kristin.

But he could get used to having Sarah on the bike behind him. The engine purred as he pumped the gas and released the brake. “Hang on!”

They wove slowly along the main drag of Myrtle Beach restaurants, through traffic snarled with thousands of tourists out for dinner and maybe a night of playing miniature golf at one of a hundred different parks. Luke pulled in at his favorite sandwich shop to buy dinner, which he stowed with another bag of cookies in a knapsack inside the bike’s right saddlebag.

Then at last they were on the long straightaway of Highway 17. The pure ecstasy of the ride—summer wind roaring around them, sight and sound blended into a blur of colorful noise—filled every need. He hadn’t felt so free, so unconfined, so…so young in months.

Hell, it had been a year and a half since he’d enjoyed anything this much. The year and a half since Matt had come back.

They passed Murrell’s Inlet, going south, and Pawley’s Island, a tourist favorite. Finally, he downshifted and made a swooping turn beside the huge statue of rearing horses at the entrance to Brookgreen Sculpture Gardens.

Sarah’s hands tightened on his waist. She leaned forward, and he felt her slenderness press against his spine. “The gardens are open at night now?” He could just barely hear her above the quiet roar of the engine.

“It’s a fairly new program.” Luke pulled out a membership card at the ticket gate and the attendant waved them through. “I thought this would be a great place for a picnic dinner.”

If she said something, he didn’t hear. But her hands slid up his back to his shoulders, and squeezed.

She couldn’t have any idea what that did to his pulse rate.

He recovered his control during a slow ride down the curving lane lined with azaleas and tall pines. Circling the first fountain and its golden horse and rider, they finally came to a stop in the parking lot outside the visitor center. Luke let Sarah slide off first.

“You’re an easy passenger.” Not easy to ignore, though. “I could barely feel your weight back there.”

“I guess it’s like any other bike. Once you learn how to balance, you don’t forget.” She looked around them and drew in a deep, deep breath. “I was planning to come down here soon. I’m so glad you thought of it.”

He held out a hand for her helmet and stowed it with his in the empty saddlebag, then walked to the other side to get the knapsack with dinner. They bypassed the gift shop, stopped to admire a water garden, and posed on a bench beside the life-size sculpture of a man reading the newspaper.

“I’ve always wanted to turn the page,” Sarah commented. “Do you suppose he gets bored reading the same articles day after day?”

“I’d say so. Where are the comics? And what about the sports section?”

She laughed and led him into one of the glass-walled galleries outside the entrance to the garden. “You might like to see this.”

Luke studied the photograph she’d indicated—a rundown shack in the country, weeds growing too high in front of the porch, junk piled against the steps and the walls, screen door hanging by one hinge. Almost depressing.

But by some magic he didn’t understand, the first impression didn’t stick. Something drew him to look again,to step closer, to get involved in the photograph. He found himself examining the garbage, searching for the stories of the people who’d left it there. The weeds became flowers, telling of a garden and the love that had tended it. The photographer had seen the lives behind the front of that old shack. And, somehow, had captured their essence on film.

“Amazing.” Luke took a deep breath, drawing in a whiff of Sarah’s sweet scent, as well. “Is this one of yours?”

“Oh, no. This is Felix Sawyer’s work. He was my teacher.”

“Wait—the guy in the shop is Charles Sawyer, right?”

“That’s right. Felix’s nephew.”

“The pictures on the wall in the front of the shop look a lot like this. Charles said they were his.”

“Really?” Sarah stared for a minute at the photograph. “I hadn’t noticed the pictures. Charles…Chuck runs the place by himself, really—I usually go in by the back door just to use the darkroom when I’m in town, and that’s not often. I’ve been here twice in the eighteen months since Felix died…until this week. I’ll have to check those prints out.” She seemed troubled by the prospect.

Luke cleared his throat. “So Felix taught you the trade. How did that happen?”

“I met him on the beach the summer I was twelve, while I was visiting my grandmother. He spent the day shooting pictures of the dunes and the sea oats, and I hung around the whole time asking questions.” Her gaze was fixed on the past. “We both came back to the same spot the next afternoon and Felix handed me a camera.” She sighed. “He taught me everything I know.”

“He must have been proud of your career.”

She sighed. “I think so. Though I didn’t see him much, once I started working for Events. I was always out of the country. Even when he died.”

“Felix would have understood that.”

“Probably. But if I had been with him more, I would have more of him to remember. I guess that’s why I came here after…” She swallowed. “I feel closer to Felix when I’m developing in his darkroom. That’s the place most like home.”

Luke asked the next question gently. “Your parents?”

“They died in a car wreck just after I graduated from high school. My dad was Air Force, so we moved a lot. I have pictures and memories, but that’s about all.”

Her wistful voice called up his personal regrets. “There’s more to life than memories, Sarah Rose.” He squeezed her shoulder quickly, then let go. It was time to break the mood. “Do you want to eat in the official picnic area, or kinda snack as we go along?”

“Let’s walk.”

“Which way?”

“The sundial?”

“You got it.”

STROLLING THROUGH the gardens, Sarah realized that this was another place that felt like home. The soft breeze stroked her skin, carrying scents of grass and mist, magnolias and roses. A crescent moon climbed above the trees, turning the sidewalk to silver even before the sun had completely set. Crickets hummed on every side, backed up by frogs in the rhythm section.

At the sight of a familiar sculpture, she thrust her sandwich into Luke’s hand and climbed into the lap of a giant bronze bear. “Goldilocks was always my favorite fairy tale. What about your girls?”

He thought a moment. “Jen loves to pretend she’s Rapunzel. Erin goes for Hansel and Gretel—she likes the part where the witch gets shoved in the oven.”