Light the Hidden Things (34 page)

The past refused to give way entirely. It forced itself into recalling things he'd never spoken of to anyone. The red force sang of death and fear and pain, mocking. It told him he had no right to a life without those things. Once upon a time, perhaps, but he forfeited that long ago.

No matter if the world cast him out or he cast himself out.

Could he survive that world - or himself - again? Did he want to?

Patricia. I said her name, several times, out loud.

That's not like putting her aside.

Guilt gnawed at his resolve, urged him to retreat into familiar solitude.

Lila reached, trapped his gesturing hand and instinctively breached his sudden silence. "I wish I'd had a partner like your Patricia in my life. I already told you I wish I'd known her. Now it's more than that; I regret that I didn't."

He blinked. She went on, feeling an almost euphoric fullness. "As awful as your loss was - is - what wonderful things you have to remember."

Crow stammered. "We had a good life."

Lila said, "I've always known that. Our dinner at Martha's? All your talk about being a loner? I was sure I knew where it came from."

"I never talked about us - Patricia and me - before. Not because I'm crazy, either. It's... Everything that happened... All I ever asked was to crawl off and heal alone."

"Crawl off? Warriors don't crawl."

"I tried. Booze. I failed to fail. I learned I need to live, but I can do it only inside myself. That's who I am."

She nodded agreement, but looked away. "Not many men can say 'That's who I am' and believe it."

"I don't believe it. I know it."

"If you say so."

He straightened. Lila felt defensiveness clang down around him like a cage. His glare - practically a snarl - only heightened the wild animal impression. She'd seen that look, just a flash before he hid it. That alone had frightened her. This was unrelenting. She steeled herself, absorbed it. He said, "You think I don't know the combat and what happened to my family are tied together in my head? I'm not stupid. Don't be one of those people who thinks they know what goes on inside us. If you had just one of my dreams, you'd have a small idea what it's like. Until you do - and I hope you never will - don't judge us. All I'm telling the world is let me be and I won't trouble you."

Lila clasped his hand in both of hers, pulled it closer. Her insistence forced him to turn and bend his body toward her. She told him of the man she'd lived with. Of a relationship that touched no romantic heights beyond convenience. Of a childhood spent thinking of herself as a welcome guest rather than a loved daughter. She wanted - needed - to make Crow understand that a person can mourn the absence of what one never had as deeply as one mourns loss.

How could he hope to go on without understanding that loss is inevitable but mourning is not eternal?

She continued, "I can't pretend to understand everything you've gone through, but I have some understanding of life's unfairness."

Crow disengaged his hand and shrank back into his chair. Chin almost on his chest, he said, "The guy you lived with - damned idiot."

"Well, there's something we don't have to argue about, anyhow." Her small lightness drew his wan smile. She said, "It disillusioned me. I just sort of existed for years. No close friends, hardly any social life, no particular interests. Until I found out I owned this place. It became my new life, just like cutting yourself off became yours."

He twisted toward her, attempted to speak. She stopped him. "No. I have to get this said. If I stop I won't ever start again. Reinventing Bake's place..." She gestured frustration. Recovering quickly, she spoke firmly. "I've never told anyone. This was to be their memorial. I'd be the only one who knew that, but that's how it was going to be. I'm not just losing a future I dreamed about. I'm losing a past, theirs and mine."

Crow seemed to grow preoccupied as she spoke. His disinterest hurt her deeply. The warmth that had been building in her burned out. She let her grip on his hand go limp. She decided she'd simply tell him he was right, that she needed sleep. She'd never again presume he was capable of compassion for anyone else. He talked the talk. That was as far out of the cage as his battered mind would take him.

Maybe she could help him find professional help. If he hung around long enough for that. No loan meant no work on the store. For him, that would mean no deal between them. He'd be on his way.

When she pulled away he wouldn't let her go.

Instead, he pivoted to reach and enfold both her hands, exactly as she'd done earlier. He said, "Everything you just said - it was all
was
. What about your future? All we've talked about is me. You said you're losing everything. You're telling me the bank turned you down?"

The controlled strength of his grip was a mooring, holding her together. She savored that strength, took it as her own. Still, sadness thickened her voice. "I'm done. That loan was my last chance."

"Oh."

She was hugely disappointed. He'd tricked her. His intensity seemed so positive. Then, nothing.
Oh.
Her original assessment was correct; no one else's problems truly penetrated his self-involvement. She waited for him to spout the usual platitudes. In the meantime she berated herself.

I thought...

I didn't think anything. I played a foolish mind game with myself.

If it was just a game, why do I hurt so much?

She hoped he wouldn't pretend sympathy. She could deal with rejection; practice makes perfect, and all that. What would be unbearable would be being smothered in empty phrases. Especially from him

I want him to hurt with me. For me. I want him to care
.

He doesn't. He won't. He can't.

What's happening to me? Why? We're not even in the same world. I belong here. He doesn't belong anywhere.

He finally said, "How long can you hang on?"

"Pretty much until my refrigerator's empty. Actually, I still have the trust - that's food money, a little more. And I'll find work. Maybe at the bank." Her laugh burned.

"I know how you feel. If that's any help."

She bristled. "Remember what you said about people who don't know what it's like? That cuts both ways."

Apparently unoffended, he let go of her hands and rose. "Maybe..." he began, and she interrupted. "I'm out of maybes. From now on it's positives and negatives. No middle. I've got to make choices."

"You'll leave here? Just walk away?

"No. I'm not leaving Lupine. Even without the dream, I've got roots here. They broke me. They can't get rid of me."

He said, "It's still your building, your land. You can live here as long as you like. I'll help." He hesitated, turned so he was addressing the empty fireplace again. "Maybe Doc Newton's right; maybe I should go to parade rest for a while. Heal up a bit. Be good for Major, too. It hurts him to ride in the pickup; I can tell. The turns roll him around, you know? And the bumps have to hurt. Anyhow, it's a bad time for you to be alone." Then, explaining the clumsy last statement, he hurried on. "I don't mean to scare you. I mean, whatever was on the porch isn't coming back. All I'm saying is, you'd have someone to talk to. If you wanted."

She felt a total fool, mute in the face of an offer she didn't expect. Worse, having received it, it frightened her with its implicit promise of continuing emotional turmoil. Her heart drummed.

It'd be better if he just left. Wouldn't it?

I want him here.

An image crept across her mind - herself in the car with Van. Another image overwhelmed that one - she saw herself falling, Crow catching her, holding her in his arms. Supporting. Wanting.

The beat of her heart slowed to normal, even as her thoughts dismayed her.

What was she becoming? Something buried deep in her was drawn to Van for those few moments in his car. There was no thought of love in her then. It was escape, purely sexual. Now - only minutes later - she was with another man and her mind was taking her down a very different but similar path. How could she? Did other women's minds do that to them?

But there was a difference. She'd never wake up one morning and find a goodbye note on Van's pillow.

No matter how she felt about Crow, it was pointless to think of him as anything more than someone who touches lives as casually as a breeze, himself completely unaffected by the contact. Yes, he was a good man and he stirred romantic feelings in her. Romantic, not realistic. Yes, he'd stay to help her and she'd accept the help but she'd have to be crazy to attach any significance to anything he said or did.

Then I'm crazy. He is significant. In every way. Ways Van could never be.

So Van was stability and security. He offered a life with social ties and events, cultural exposure, travel. He wasn't entirely the man of her heart's dreams - who ever found that? - but he could turn out to be the man of her marital needs.

Heart's dreams? Crow?

"Lila?" Crow was quizzical.

She stammered. "I'm sorry. What you said about staying and helping - I thought you'd be moving on, now that the project's dead."

"You have to live here. We'll get that squared away. And things may change, get better. There's always something unexpected comes up."

Ignoring the last, she said, "Thank you. I already told you once you're a better friend than you know. It bears repeating."

His smile was positively shy. It pulled at her, made her want to tiptoe high enough to kiss him.

But not
that
way.

Yes, dammit, that way. Too. Any way.

I really am crazy. I don't believe me.

He said, "Time to go. I know the way out." He called Major. Sleepily, the dog uncurled and came to stand by him. Lila rose. When Crow half-turned, her heart lurched. She almost reached to prevent his going.

They moved to the front door. Crow hesitated after opening it. The night air poured in. Lila shivered, knowing in her heart it wasn't mountain chill affecting her. Without looking back at her, Crow said, "You know Vanderkirk's serious about you."

Now.

Now you say "I don't love Van."

I have to make him realize this could be our time. Us. There's something there. We both deserve something better. Maybe it's each other.

He'll never leave Patricia. He can't.

Her voice was unsteady. "I know."

He faced her. "So how do you feel about him?"

"For someone who's so ultra-sensitive about his privacy, you're sure careless about someone else's."

For the first time that night, a real smile brushed across his face. "That was massively rude, wasn't it? Sorry. I wasn't thinking. But with things the way they are... You know - you refusing to sell and hanging on here when he wants the land." He shrugged.

Only a man could be that dense. Endearing, in a way, but as thick as a plank. She decided she might as well be honest. "I think about it. Don't you dare ask me if I love him."

This time he actually grinned and it was even more devastating than the earlier shy smile. Lila turned her hands into fists and locked her elbows to keep herself from grabbing at him. He said, "I'm a troubled man and I know it, but I'm not completely nuts. If I ever ask a question like that, you'll know the string's run out. You and Van's none of my business. Neither's the property, really, but I was wondering if you'll change your mind, sell the place."

"What do you think of him?"

Genuinely startled, Crow pulled back. "Me? Van? I don't know. I mean..."

"Liar."

He colored. Frowned. "Ok, you asked: I don't like him."

I'm a fool. An idiot. I knew it was the perfect time earlier. I had a chance to say something light, something clever. Maybe tease him about falling into his arms that night. Maybe he'd think about that, about how it could be the start of something. It might have been a start heading nowhere, but...

She had to say something. "I'm surprised."

"Sometimes people just don't like someone else. Says more about me than him, I guess."

What's it say about me that I'm thrilled to hear it? It's been obvious and I still wanted to hear him say it.

She said, "He's not a bad person. He can be abrasive. He doesn't mean anything by it."

Crow nodded. "It's way late. I kept you up, unloading on you that way. It was kind of you to listen."

"I wasn't being kind. After all, I made you listen to my sad song."

He laughed softly and said, "Aren't we being good to each other? We sound like a camp meeting - all day preaching and dinner on the ground. Except it's the middle of the night. Even so, the Pastor'd be proud of us."

"You've got a weird sense of humor."

"I told you once, I'm a funny man."

"I'll stick with weird."

He walked down the steps, talking over his shoulder. "No surprise there. Last word: like that. Stubborn as a cat. It makes me wish..."

He was on the ground by then, barely touched by the faint wash of light from inside the house. He stumbled, wavered. Lila rushed to him, grabbed his shoulder. Slowly, he turned to her, taut with control. He looked stunned. She kept her hand on him, bending the arm so she was close to him, bodies practically touching.