Читать книгу Coming Home For Christmas - RaeAnne Thayne - Страница 13

He closed the door outside the hotel room, aware he had just blatantly lied to his wife. His phone wasn’t in the truck; it was in his pocket. He had used the phone only as an excuse so he wouldn’t have to sit in that hotel room with Elizabeth either in silence or in stilted, awkward conversation.

He wanted to spend as little time as possible with her. It was bad enough that he had been trapped with her for the last four hours. He needed a little distance to get his head back on straight.

He headed down to the lobby, which was still chaotic but not quite as frenzied as it had been when they arrived. While he was tempted to go to the restaurant next door and see if they had a bar attached, he knew that wouldn’t solve anything.

He didn’t drink much, his answer to growing up with an abusive alcoholic for a father. Sometimes he longed for the oblivion, but he feared what would happen once he started down that road.

Instead, he managed to find a relatively quiet corner and sat for a minute checking his email and messages. Nothing was urgent, only a few scheduling conflicts with subcontractors on a couple of the houses he was building in Shelter Springs. He could deal with them after he returned to town.

That done, he finally checked the time and saw it was 8:00 p.m., not too late to talk to the kids.

His sister had called him three times that day and he had sent each to voice mail, not up to the battle he knew would ensue, but she needed to know he wouldn’t be back that night.

Megan answered on the second ring. “Luke. It is about time you called. I’ve been worried sick! What is going on? Where are you?”

“Stuck in central Oregon. We ran into a storm and won’t be back until morning.”

“We?”

He sighed. “Elizabeth. I told you I was coming to get her.”

“Wrong. You told me nothing. Less than nothing. I’ve had just about enough of men and their cryptic explanations today.”

That must mean Elliot Bailey was still busy with his latest undercover investigation for the FBI. He’d been gone three weeks and Megan wasn’t happy about the situation, especially when they were supposed to marry in less than a month.

“You can’t just drop the kids off and announce you’re going after Elizabeth, then walk out the door before I can ask any questions,” she said.

He hadn’t been fair to his sister. He had known that as soon as he drove away. His only excuse had been that he’d reacted out of anger and frustration after Cade Emmett called him early that morning, what seemed a lifetime and hundreds of miles ago. The Haven Point police chief called to warn him the new county district attorney, a temporary appointment until the next election, was preparing to file charges against him in the disappearance and presumed murder of his wife.

The wife he had known for months was alive and well and living on the Oregon Coast.

His reaction had been visceral, with not much thought behind it, though he’d had plenty of time to think on the eight-hour drive from Boise to the coast.

“The morning was crazy,” he answered. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking after Cade called. Thanks for taking the kids, by the way.”

“Of course. You know they’re always welcome here. I guess you won’t be back tonight, then.”

“No. A big storm has traffic at a standstill. I’m hoping we can get an early start first thing in the morning.”

“The kids are fine. Since Elliot still isn’t back, I might just take them back to your place so they can sleep in their own beds.”

“No problem. Thanks. I owe you.”

He knew this was only one tiny drop of debt in the vast ocean he owed his sister.

“So. You have Elizabeth with you?”

“Not at this particular moment in time. She’s up in the room. But yes. She’s coming back with me to clear things up once and for all.”

“That will be a relief,” Megan said. “Are you...okay?”

He squirmed at the concern in his sister’s voice. He knew what she was asking. How was he handling seeing her again?

He didn’t know how to answer. He was stuck in a hotel room with a woman he had once loved with all his heart, had grieved for deeply when he thought she was dead and had come to despise now that he knew she had chosen to walk away from the life they were building.

Yeah, he’d had better days.

“I’m fine.” He gave his second lie of the evening. “I just wish I could be home with the kids. How are they doing? Did you have a good day?”

“Yes. I took them to church,” she answered.

Luke didn’t miss the hesitancy in her voice. He knew his sister well enough to sense she wasn’t telling him something. “What happened? What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. You have enough on your plate right now. We can talk when you get home.”

“Megan. What happened.”

She sighed. “I guess I need to tell you. Bridger got in a fight after Sunday school.”

“No, he didn’t!”

“Do you think I would lie about something like that?”

Bridger was not that kind of kid. He was sweet and good-natured, always willing to focus on the good in other people. “I’m sure there was some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Maybe. One of the other parents saw the whole thing and intervened before it could get too ugly. Apparently another kid said something mean to Bridger and he punched him.”

“Who was it?”

“Jedediah Sparks. That kid is a pistol. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know?”

He did know. Jed’s father, Billy, and his mother, Arlene, were some of Luke’s most vocal critics, making sly comments about wife killers and criminals going free whenever they happened to inhabit the same space. The boy probably heard all kinds of nasty gossip from his parents.

“Did Bridger say why he lost his temper?”

“He’s not talking. He only said it was a difference of opinion and he wanted to make the other kid shut up. He feels awful.”

“He should feel awful.”

“He’s upset about punching someone in church and thinks God is going to be mad at him. More than that, he’s afraid you’re going to be mad at him. Or at least disappointed. He said you always told him the most important lesson a man has to learn is how to control his temper.”

Megan didn’t say more, but Luke knew what she was thinking. They had both shared the same son of a bitch for a father. Paul Hamilton had never given a single damn about controlling his temper. He had been harsh, demanding, cruel. Both Luke and his sister had barely survived their childhood.

“Is he already in bed? I’d like to talk to him.”

“He is. They were pretty tired after helping me shovel snow earlier at the inn.”

“Are you okay staying overnight with them? I’m sorry to do that to you. I can find someone else if you have things to do. I’m hoping we can get an early start, but I don’t know how long this weather will hold out.”

“We will be great. Tomorrow is a slow day for me. I’m just working on photos and my schedule is totally flexible. I can get the kids off to school and work after that.”

“Thank you. I owe you.” Again, the words seemed wholly inadequate. “I’ll keep you posted about the weather here.”

“Is that all you have to say? You don’t want to tell me your impressions about Elizabeth?”

He shifted, telling himself the sudden warmth seeping through him came from the gas fireplace in the lobby. “Nothing to tell. She’s a stranger now.”

“You must have had a million questions. What kind of explanation did she give? Why did she run off? Why did she change her name? Where has she been all these years while you have been raising your children, living under a cloud of suspicion?”

He gazed into the dancing flames, thinking of the woman probably asleep in the room upstairs. “I don’t know any more than I did this morning. She’s still a mystery. I told her I didn’t want to know anything. I don’t care. She can tell her story to the district attorney tomorrow.”

Okay, that had been a stupid, stubborn thing to say, his knee-jerk reaction. He was afraid that the more he knew, the angrier he would become.

The most important lesson a man has to learn is how to control his temper.

It was the advice he’d given his son and also the advice he most needed to follow himself. He found it tough enough to keep his temper contained around Elizabeth. He feared the task would become impossible once he knew the full story about her reasons for leaving him.

“Seriously?” Megan pressed. “You don’t know anything?”

He knew Elizabeth was still lovely, though very different from the woman he had married. He knew he was still attracted to her. He knew he missed the wife he had loved with a deep, yearning ache.

“Not much. She doesn’t look the same. You wouldn’t know her if you bumped into her on the street, but I do know she’s been back to Haven Point at least a few times over the years. I recognized her and realized I’ve...seen her around town before.”

Megan’s outrage seemed to pop and sizzle over the phone line. “What? And she never stopped to see the kids? Every time I think I can’t despise the woman more, I discover I’m wrong.”

For one crazy moment, Luke was almost tempted to defend Elizabeth. She seemed so fragile, so vulnerable, the sort of wounded creature he had always tried to nurture back to health.

What the hell was wrong with him?

She had left him. Worse, she had left the kids. That was unforgivable, as far as he was concerned.

“How’s the wedding planning?” he asked, a blatant ploy to distract her.

To his relief, the diversion worked. “It’s good. But next time I decide to plan a winter wedding, remind me not to.”

“I hope you don’t plan another wedding ever,” he replied.

“So do I.”

“What do you hear from Elliot?”

Megan sighed. “Nothing. I know it’s the job and one of the things I’m going to have to learn to live with, but I hate having him out of contact. I need him here, you know?”

He didn’t like thinking about Megan and Elliot together, especially considering recent history between them. While it would take a long time to repair the damage of the past seven years when the FBI agent had suspected him of harming his wife, Luke still respected him. Elliot had always focused on doing the right thing. He had been the one to locate Elizabeth, through tireless investigation that he’d undertaken for Megan’s sake, not for Luke’s.

The man came close to being good enough for Megan, though nobody could ever really hit that bar.

“Oh, that’s Cyrus. I need to take him out.”

He pictured her funny-looking little dog and almost smiled. “Okay. I’ll let you go. Thanks again for taking care of the kids. I can’t tell you exactly what time I’ll be back but I’ll be in touch.”

“Be careful,” she said. Luke had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about the roads.

“Yeah. Thanks. Give them both a hug for me in the morning and tell Bridger to stay away from Jedediah.”

“I will. Maybe I can get him to tell me a few more details about what set him off.”

After he said goodbye to his sister and ended the call, Luke sat for a long moment in the lobby. He had a feeling the desk clerk wouldn’t be happy if he just stretched out in this comfy chair and went to sleep down here, but he really didn’t want to go back to that hotel room to face Elizabeth yet.

Outside, the storm was either on momentary hiatus or had slowed a little. The intensity seemed to have decreased. Instead of blowing horizontally, the snow seemed to be falling in the usual manner.

He was so tired from hours of driving but knew he would be too restless to sleep. On impulse, he headed for the front desk, where the same clerk who had checked them in earlier still worked.

His family had run an inn for most of his life. Megan still oversaw the Haven Point Inn. He knew exactly how many little details went into giving guests an enjoyable experience and how hard it could be to accomplish everything necessary.

“Hi. I’ve been sitting behind the wheel all day and need to burn off some energy. Do you mind if I take a shovel and clear off the front walk?”

The woman’s face brightened. “Mind? Are you kidding? Our maintenance guy is up to his eyeballs trying to fix a problem with the swimming pool. We’ve got twenty kids who want to swim and the situation is getting desperate. You would be a lifesaver.”

Luke grabbed the shovel from the closet she pointed to and headed out into the storm, grateful he’d still been wearing his coat when he walked down to use the phone.

In the end, he shoveled the walks all around the small inn. The physical exertion helped calm his brain, almost a form of meditation. By the time he finished, his muscles burned, but he felt much more able to rest.

“Thank you,” the clerk said when he came inside again. “That was so kind of you. The least I can do is give you a coupon for a meal at the restaurant next door. We offer a free breakfast of muffins and fruit, but they have a more elaborate spread.”

“Thanks, but I’m hoping we’ll be making an early start and won’t have time for a sit-down breakfast. There was a nice young couple just ahead of us when we checked in. A couple with a little girl. You could give it to them.”

“I’ll do that. That’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

“Good night.”

He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to go to the room. Cheeks still cold from the elements, Luke made his way up to the elevator, bracing himself the whole way to deal with her again.

When he opened the door to the hotel room, he found it mostly dark, illuminated only by the bathroom light. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim conditions. When they did, he saw she had picked the bed closest to the window and was under the covers, unmoving. Was she asleep? He couldn’t say. Her breathing seemed regular and steady but she might have been faking.

He grabbed his duffel and headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He hadn’t been planning to stay the night but also hadn’t known what he would face in Oregon. He was glad some sixth sense had prompted him to be prepared for a night on the road. He at least had a T-shirt and gym shorts he could sleep in.

When he came out of the bathroom, he couldn’t see that she had moved.

Odd. She had always been a restless sleeper. He couldn’t count the number of nights he had awakened with her sprawled across him, warm and soft, the comforter somewhere at their feet or on the floor. He used to love wrapping his arms around her and holding her, cherishing the pure perfection of the moment while he counted the moments until he could legitimately awaken her with a kiss.

He pushed away the ache and slipped into his own bed, wishing it were a little farther away so he didn’t have to listen to her breathing.

He had become the restless sleeper now. Since she left, he rarely slept all the way through the night, as if something in his subconscious continued to wake up, looking for her. It made him furious and empty at the same time.

He stared up at the ceiling in the room, tinted red and green from the snow-covered Christmas lights filtering in through a gap in the curtains.

Finally, exhausted from hours of driving and from the emotional tumult of the day, he slept.

He awoke to whimpering coming from the other bed. For a moment when he first awoke, he couldn’t remember where he was. Was that Cassie or Bridger having a bad dream?

He saw red and green lights filtering through the curtains and remembered then. He was in a hotel somewhere in Oregon. That wasn’t one of his kids. It was the wife he hadn’t seen in years.

He rolled onto his side, facing her. He could just make out her features in the dim light, twisted with either pain or fear. As he listened, trying to decide whether to wake her, the sound turned into more than whimpering. She cried out, the emotion in her voice tortured and raw. “No. Please. My babies. I need my babies.”

He frowned, sitting up and scrubbing his face to push away the remaining tendrils of sleep.

“I’m not Sonia. I’m Elizabeth. Why won’t you believe me? Please. Please! Don’t leave me trapped here.”

She said a few more things, her words garbled and unintelligible but the distress coming through with grim clarity.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He flipped on the light on the table between the two beds. “Lizzie? Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

“Luke. Oh, Luke.” She said his name on a sob, her eyes still closed. He was fairly sure she wasn’t awake but he couldn’t be sure. He did know he hated her tears.

“Hey, now. Don’t cry.”

Though he knew it was probably one of the more stupid things he could do, he couldn’t resist sliding out of bed and sitting on the edge of hers. She was trembling. He could feel the bed vibrating with her small movements.

“Don’t cry,” he repeated. “You’re dreaming.”

Except this didn’t seem like a dream. She wasn’t here. She was...somewhere else.

He reached a hand out to calm her. That was all he really intended but the next moment she was somehow in his arms.

In an instant, seven years melted away. She was here and she was his.

He had forgotten how perfectly she fit in his arms, how her head nestled against his chest at precisely the right angle and her arms wrapped around his waist. She smelled the same, that mix of citrus and vanilla that always made his mouth water.

He wanted to bury his face in her hair and inhale, to burn that scent into his memory again.

He knew the instant she started to awaken. Her whimpering slowed and then stopped altogether. She sighed, and for perhaps sixty seconds, she relaxed in his arms, her body going boneless and calm before he could feel her muscles tighten and she started to fight against his hold.

“Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. Take what you want but don’t hurt me.”

He hated those words. He had never hurt her. He even hated raising his voice. How many times had he walked away when she would explode at him, lashing out in her pain that he should leave her, that he was better off without her?

“Easy. Easy. It’s me. It’s Luke.”

She scrambled to the other side of the bed, those familiar-unfamiliar features twisting with confusion. In the low light, she looked...haunted.

“Luke. What are you...?” Her blue eyes widened and he watched memory click back. “Oh.”

“You had a bad dream. You were crying in your sleep.”

“Was I?” She blinked, obviously trying to make sense of the last few moments. She pulled the blanket to her shoulders like a shield, becoming guarded once more. “What...what did I say?”

“You begged me not to hurt you. And you also said you were Elizabeth. Not Sonia.”

“I would say...I’m a little of both now.”

“You also said something about being trapped. It sounded pretty frightening. What did you mean?”

She looked away, focusing on the banal artwork in the room. “Nothing. I was rambling in my sleep, I suppose. You know how...dreams can be.” She swallowed. “What time is it? Has the weather cleared?”

His jaw worked, aware she was trying to avoid the questions. She didn’t want to talk about the nightmare or about what her subconscious may have revealed.

Since he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to hear her answers, he decided to let her change the subject. “A little after four. The snow had eased a little when I went to sleep around midnight. I’ll take a look.”

Though the room was carpeted, the floor was still cold on his bare feet as he slid out of bed and walked to the window. Dawn was still a few hours away. The storm had dropped several more inches since midnight but it looked as if the winds had died down. With luck, crews had been hard at work in the early hours clearing the freeway and they could get on their way at first light.

Good. He wasn’t sure he could take another night, trapped in a hotel room with her.

“It’s still too early to take off again. We should try to catch a few more hours, then get an early start.”

“All right. I’m...sorry I woke you.”

He thought about telling her she’d been giving him sleepless nights for seven years but didn’t want to admit that to her.

“Good night,” he answered, then climbed back into bed, rolled to face the wall and tried to do the impossible—put her out of his mind long enough to slip back into sleep.