Morning Light (37 page)

“What do I look like, a rabbit?”

As Loni moved down the line, she was so captivated by their antics that she almost forgot to make her own choices. When she glanced up at Clint, he winked at her, his teasing expression saying more clearly than words,
Can your family measure up to this?

When everyone was seated at the table, a sudden solemnity overtook them. Hats came off. Heads were bowed. Hands quickly made the sign of the cross. Loni's family didn't usually pray over a meal at restaurants, but the Harrigans did so unabashedly, their combined voices as they recited the blessing creating a deep drone. As Loni said the familiar prayer with them, she realized that
this
was what she loved about Clint and enjoyed about his family. They were what they were and didn't change their colors to please the public.

Frank had just tucked into his baked chicken breast when his cell phone chirped. Excusing himself, he took the call, which was clearly from Dee Dee. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said. “How you feelin'?”

He listened for a moment, then quietly said good-bye. Loni knew something was wrong when he directed a serious look at Clint.

“We got trouble,” he said.

Clint pocketed a bite of steak in his cheek. “What kind of trouble?”

Frank wadded his napkin and tossed it on his plate. “Dee Dee was lyin' on the sofa, watchin' television. Sandra's mother was just interviewed by a reporter, live. She told him all about you givin' Trevor blood and about Loni bein' a clairvoyant and leadin' you to the boy. Dee Dee says our phone has started ringin' off the hook, newshounds tryin' to get an exclusive. They want to talk to Loni, and I reckon they've figured out she must still be with you. Chances are they're callin' every Harrigan in the phone book, tryin' to find her.”

Clint stiffened and dropped his fork onto the plate. For a long moment he didn't speak. Then he directed an anguished look at Loni. “How did Sharon find out about your clairvoyance? You didn't tell her, did you?”

“I told her,” Frank inserted.

Clint sent his dad a fulminating glare.

“I didn't see the harm,” Frank added quickly. “It never occurred to me that she'd do an interview and blab it to the world.”

“Her son-in-law was a senator,” Clint pointed out. “Of
course
she'd be interviewed. Robert Stiles's death is big news all over the state. Do you realize the ramifications of this?”

Loni curled her hand over Clint's knee. “It's not his fault, Clint. He didn't know. Quite honestly, as wary as I am about telling anyone, I didn't consider the possibilities either. We were all upset, and Sharon and Jacob are so nice, I honestly forgot how important their son was.”

Parker leveled a curious look at Loni. “Dad didn't know what?” he asked. “I'm not following. So you're a clairvoyant. Big deal.” He switched his gaze to Clint. “Why are you acting like it's such a disaster?”

Clint briefed his family on Loni's past and her reasons for having to leave the Seattle area. When he finished speaking, everyone at the table had gone quiet.

“Maybe it'll blow over,” Zach finally said. “You see it happen all the time. Something's hot news, and then something else takes the limelight and people forget all about it.”

“I can only hope,” Loni said.

Following his father's example, Clint crumpled his napkin and threw it on top of his nearly untouched food. Pushing back in his chair he said, “We need to get out of here. It won't take them long to figure out you may be at the hospital.”

Quincy pushed his food away. “As bad as it may have been before, Clint, there's nothing to say it'll be like that this time. So what if she helped you find the boy? You're automatically assuming that the reporters down here in Oregon are going to link Loni to that mess in Washington, but chances are good that they won't. Crystal Falls is a good-size town now, but our news crews aren't exactly hooked into the mainstream.”

“What makes you think it's Crystal Falls reporters calling?” Clint asked. “It's far more likely that the Portland news teams have gotten wind of it.” To Loni he said, “I'm sorry, honey. If we'd had some time to take a breath I would have told everybody to keep their mouths shut about your being a psychic. But for reasons beyond me, I never even thought about needing to.”

Loni felt oddly calm. Maybe, she decided, it was because she'd always known this would happen. Even as she'd escaped Lynwood, hoping to build a new life, a part of her had recognized the futility of it. Like Gram had said, she couldn't run from who and what she was.

There were no reporters camped out at the gate to Clint's ranch. Yard lights around the house and outbuildings created a nimbus of gold over the ranch proper, but the entrance to the property was cloaked in darkness. As Clint drove under the log arch, Loni breathed a sigh of relief that prompted him to look over at her.

“Don't worry. All right? I won't let them hound you like before. You'll be perfectly safe here.”

On the one hand Loni didn't want to overreact, but a part of her had lost hope. Her name had been broadcast all over the state, and it was entirely possible, given Robert Stiles's political status, that the story had gone national. How long would it take for people in the Seattle area to recognize her name and make the connection? Not long, she was afraid, and once that connection was made, her anonymity in Crystal Falls would be obliterated.

“Quincy had a good point, you know.” Clint steered around a pothole. “Hot news today, old news tomorrow. It'll be okay.”

“And if it's not?”

He reached over to rub her shoulder. “If it's not then we move to plan B.”

“What's plan B?”

“I don't know yet. But stop looking like a rabbit staring into the barrel of a shotgun. I'll take care of it.”

Loni knew it wouldn't be that simple, but she didn't want to think about it right then. Instead she took comfort from the darkness and isolation, and she allowed herself to cling to the dream that had taken shape over the last few days, of her and Clint living happily ever after on this ranch, creating a magical compromise between his lifestyle and hers. Theater in Portland. Horseback rides into the wilderness. Getting married and starting a family. The images were seductive, and she didn't want to turn them loose.

Maybe Quincy was right, and interest in her would die down quickly. There was no point in panicking. She could handle anything for a while, especially when the future beckoned with such promise.

Clint's kitchen answering machine was blinking wildly when they entered the house. He glanced at her before punching the playback button. Several calls were from local reporters wanting to interview her. Apparently the media had ferreted out the fact that Loni was staying at the ranch. The first calls seemed harmless enough, but the last call was a shocker—some man from a publishing company wanting to discuss a book deal. He mentioned no specific amount of money, only that his publisher might be prepared to make a tempting offer for exclusive rights to her story.

“They know,” she said hollowly when the machine clicked off. “Crystal Falls may not be in the mainstream, but somehow they've already made the connection. He even mentioned Cheryl Blain by name.”

Clint leaned his hips against the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so they know. We'll deal with it.”

“How?” Loni shivered and rubbed her arms. “You don't know what it's like. I'll be like a hunk of meat being fed upon by flies.”

He dropped his hand and fixed her with a determined gaze. “Sweetheart, we'll deal with it. I don't know how yet. I only know I love you, and you love me. I believe with all my heart that God means for us to be together. Don't we need to trust in that? I may not have all the answers off the top of my head, but He does, and in His own good time He'll reveal them to us.”

He opened his arms, and Loni walked into them. As his hard, warm embrace enfolded her against him, she knew that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. “I'm gun-shy, I guess, and overreacting.”

“Very gun-shy. Listen.” He buried his face in her hair. She felt the heat of his breath feathering over her scalp. “Just
listen.
”

Loni did as he asked. “I don't hear anything but the refrigerator humming and the clock ticking.”

“Exactly. You were in the center of urban sprawl up in Lynwood. That isn't the case here. We're thirty minutes away from Crystal Falls, the largest community in a radius of two hundred miles. It's not a spot in the road. We've got a great hospital, a college, and just about everything else most towns offer, but it isn't the big city. Maybe you couldn't insulate yourself in Lynwood, but you can down here. There are geographical barriers around this ranch, long stretches of land separating the house from the road. Even if reporters do gather at the gate, they won't bother you here.”

Loni pressed closer to him, wanting with every fiber of her being to believe he was right. “What if they cross the property line?”

“Trespassing,” he murmured. “They wouldn't dare.”

Because they hadn't eaten their meal at the hospital, both of them were hungry and worked together to fix ham and eggs. When Loni saw that the trash needed to be emptied, she pulled the plastic can from under the sink and lifted the full bag out. “Where are your outdoor trash receptacles?” she asked.

Clint took the bag from her hand. “You watch the ham. I'll take it out.”

As Loni manned the skillet she gazed after him. When the door closed behind him, she sighed and forked a piece of meat to turn it over. He didn't want her going outside alone. That was the truth of it. He could talk himself blue about how isolated his house was, but deep down he was afraid some crazy reporter
would
cross the property line.

Cheryl Blain. She had haunted Loni's dreams for nearly two years, and now, once again, it appeared that she would haunt her daily life.

Refraining from having sex wasn't so easy for Loni that night. Despite the barrier of pillows she was acutely aware of Clint stretched out on the bed beside her. She
needed
to feel his arms around her. She
yearned
to feel him inside of her, with an almost frantic sense of urgency. Impending doom hovered over her like a dark cloud, and she couldn't shake it.
What if…?
Genuine clairvoyants fascinated people. Through no fault of her own she'd come under the microscope in an extraordinary way—not once, but twice. Robert Stiles's death was big news, and she'd saved his son. What if interest in her didn't wane as Quincy predicted? What if the situation escalated, and she soon found herself in as big a mess as the one she'd only recently escaped in Lynwood? A book deal. Why couldn't people just leave her alone?

“You're thinking so hard, I can almost hear your wheels turning,” Clint startled her by saying.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Nope. You're thinking so loud, you're keeping me awake.”

Loni smiled against her pillow. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Me, too,” he said huskily. “The phone hasn't rung once since we got home. I think you're making too big a deal out of this. I know you're wary, and with good reason, but let's play wait-and-see. If the situation gets out of hand, we'll figure out how to handle it together. All right?”

Loni swallowed hard. “I can't shake the feeling that everything is going to be ruined. You and me, I mean. That I've foolishly allowed myself to buy into an impossible dream, and now I've gotten the wake-up call.”

He shoved the pillows between them toward the foot of the bed. “Come here.”

“I can't. If I do we'll have sex, and we've made a pact not to.”

“To hell with sex. I just want to hold you.”

Loni needed him to hold her, so she scooted across the mattress. When his arms came around her she sighed. “I feel better already.”

“That's because you're right where you belong.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Relax. I'll behave myself.”

She grinned against his shoulder. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“A promise.” He ran a big hand along her spine. “The Snoopy pajamas are growing on me, though. I think you'd look sexy in a gunnysack.”

She rested her hand over his heart, measuring the rhythmic thumps. “I'm afraid, Clint. I've finally found everything I ever wanted, and I feel as if the rug's going to be jerked out from under me.”

“Never happen. I love you, lady. We're in this together, and we'll figure out a way to get through it.”

Loni wanted and needed to believe he was right, so she snuggled closer, yawned wearily, and closed her eyes. “Together,” she whispered. “I like the sound of that.”

I
n the morning Loni left Clint to shower and shave while she went downstairs for a cup of the coffee that he'd set last night to brew automatically. Cradling a hot mug in her hands, she leaned against the counter to enjoy her new favorite morning ritual. Nothing woke her up quite so pleasantly as sniffing the aromatic steam from a cup she held just under her nose. Normally she preferred tea, but since she'd come to know Clint, her tastes seemed to be changing. The rich, hard kick of strong coffee had its merits.

As she sipped the scalding-hot brew, Loni noticed that the answering machine light was blinking. Clint had played all the messages last night, and so far as she knew, the phone hadn't rung again after they went to bed. Feeling like Pandora approaching the infamous box, Loni leaned close to study the apparatus. It was different from hers at home, but it took her only a moment to determine which button performed what function. She was also quick to notice that Clint had turned off all the ringers on the phones so they wouldn't ring during the night.

No more calls, he'd pointed out to her. Instead of feeling miffed, Loni smiled sadly. He'd known that the constant ringing would upset her. It was difficult to feel angry with him for the deception. She
had
been upset, and his ploy to hold the world at bay for a few hours had allowed her to relax and get some rest.

She was awake now, though, and ready to face reality. With a trembling fingertip she pressed the playback button. The first message was from Zach.

“Hey, bro, I don't mean to bitch like an old lady, but I just caught two dudes going through my trash cans out back. How am I supposed to handle that? Tell them they've got the wrong brother, or declare open season and shoot the buggers? I'm leaning real strongly toward the latter. Been a while since I got in any target practice. Might be entertaining.”

Smiling at Zach's nonsense, Loni noted that his call had come in at a little after ten last night. As if he'd ever really shoot somebody. Although, Loni mused, firing a few rounds off into the air might go a long way toward discouraging trespassers.

The next call was a reporter. “My name's Alex Baldini.” He rushed to list his news affiliations. “I'm trying to get in touch with Loni Kendra MacEwen. Please have her call me.” He went on to recite both his office and cell phone numbers. “I'll make it worth her while if she contacts me first.”

Then a woman's voice, someone named Serena from a Portland chapter of a club called Witches without Brooms. She invited Loni to speak at their annual nationwide conference in September at the City of Roses. The next caller was another reporter, followed by yet another. Each person took a different tack, but the gist of each appeal was the same. Could he or she have just a few minutes of Loni's time? Then she wouldn't be bothered again.

Yeah, right. Loni had learned the hard way that tossing the media a crumb only made them hungry for the whole loaf. The last message, at shortly after three in the morning, was from the man at the publishing house again, only this time he offered her a whopping two hundred thousand dollars in advance for a book deal. The sum boggled Loni's mind.

Needing a breath of fresh air, Loni decided to take a turn around the ranch proper while she sipped her coffee. As she stepped off the veranda into the gentle lemon yellow sunlight of early day, she dragged in a deep, cleansing breath that did a lot more to clear her senses than the coffee had done so far. Off to the right were open-sided pole sheds that sheltered a number of horses. Loni walked in that direction, eager to meet a few more of Clint's furry friends.

To her delight the outdoor stalls housed mares with new foals. Lacking an experienced eye, Loni couldn't guess the babies' ages, but they all were darling, with long, gangly legs, knobby knees, little switch tails, and overlarge ears. They greeted her with rambunctious nudges through the rails, velvety nostrils chuffing as they sniffed her clothing. Loni realized they were expecting treats.

Setting her coffee atop a post, she devoted herself to doling out rubs and scratches. “I'm sorry, little one. Next time I'll bring you goodies. Silly me for forgetting. If I'm going to live on a horse ranch I have a lot to learn, don't I?”

One little fellow was not to be put off so easily. He wanted a treat and clearly thought one might spring from her slacks pocket if he persisted. Loni gave a startled laugh. “Hey, little guy, don't get fresh.”

“What the
hell
are you doing out here alone?”

At the question Loni spun to find Clint standing behind her. Booted feet set wide apart, fists knotted on his hips, he gave her a burning look.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” she offered. “I figured you'd guess that I'd stepped outside. I didn't mean to alarm you.”

“
Alarm
me? Zach had two men going through his garbage last night. Quincy just called to tell me his phone rang no less than fifteen times before bed, and then, suddenly, the calls stopped. He thinks they've finally figured out which Harrigan you're hanging out with, and that means they'll be concentrating on my place now. I don't want you wandering around out here alone.”

Despite his overbearing manner, Loni wanted to hug him. “I'm perfectly fine, Clint. I've only been accosted by this little guy.” She petted the colt again. “I didn't bring treats, and he's letting me know that isn't okay.”

“I'm serious, Loni. Until things cool down you can't be walking around out here unless I'm with you.”

Folding her arms at her waist, she offered a smile, hoping it might lighten his mood. He continued to glower at her.

“You need to work on remembering to say
please,
” she informed him.

“You need to work on using the brains God gave you. Coming out here was not smart. What if a half-dozen reporters or frantic parents had been lying in wait?”

She started tapping her toe. “In that event I would have handled it.”

“Like you did the furious father who got physically violent?”

Loni regretted telling him about that. “He didn't hurt me, Clint. He just shook me by the shoulders and shoved me against a wall.”

His jaw muscle started to tic. “
Just?
He put his hands on you. That's all I need to know. God as my witness, I'll never let it happen again.”

Loni was beginning to realize that he was more upset than she'd first thought. At the start of their relationship, she might have gotten miffed at his high-handedness, but having come to know him so well, she couldn't muster any indignation. He was afraid for her, plain and simple, and his anger was only a smoke screen.

She stepped close to loop her arms around his hard middle. Beneath her splayed hands his back muscles were knotted with tension. “I'm sorry I frightened you. Until this blows over I won't come out alone again. Okay?”

He released a taut breath and returned her embrace. “See that you don't. If I catch some jerk-off putting his hands on you, I'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Loni buried her nose against the front of his fresh shirt. It smelled of sunshine, scented laundry soap, and faint male musk, a wonderful blend of scents that made her want to inhale as if it were an intoxicant. “We can't have that. You'd go to prison, and I'd be left all alone.”

He tightened his arms around her and dipped his head to press his lips against her hair. “This love business is going to take some getting used to,” he said gruffly. “When I think that something might happen to you, I can't breathe.”

“Nothing's going to happen to me. If reporters start swarming I won't be physically harmed, Clint. The damage is only emotional.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want any part of you hurt in any way. So bear with me, all right? Stick close to me for a few days until the interest in you dies down.”

But what if it didn't die down? In Lynwood there'd been occasional lulls, allowing Loni to think the worst was over. But then a young woman would go missing again, and the first thing she knew her name would start popping up in the news, and the general public's interest in her would be rekindled.

She chose not to mention that to Clint, though. “Let's go get some coffee and breakfast,” she suggested. “We can lay out the ground rules while we eat.”

Twenty minutes later they were seated across from each other at his kitchen table. As he smeared cream cheese onto one half of a large bagel, he glared at the answering machine, which kept clicking on. With the machine turned to its lowest volume the people leaving messages could barely be heard, but their calls were still intrusive, reminding both Loni and Clint that the peace and tranquillity of the ranch provided scant protection from the media hype about Loni that was quickly escalating.

“Maybe I should go away for a while,” she suggested.

“Not a chance.”

“Not for long. A few days, maybe. I can come home when things calm down.”

“
No.
If you leave I'm going with you, end of subject.”

Tucking into her diced fruit, Loni let the idea drop. She didn't really want to leave anyway. “Are you going to be one of those husbands who worries every time I'm out of your sight?”

He arched one black brow. “Depends on the circumstances. If I have reason to worry, then yes, I'll worry.”

“And be grouchy?”

“Grouchy? Have I been grouchy?”

Loni giggled. “Out in the stable yard you looked ready to rip someone apart with your bare hands.”

“That's not being grouchy.”

“It isn't?”

“No. It's being justifiably upset.” He relented and chuckled. “I don't mean to be grouchy, darlin'. The next time I start grumping at you, remind me, and I'll be so sweet your teeth will ache.”

Loni laughed again. “I'll settle for reasonable. I was only petting the babies.”

“Foals. You're going to be a rancher's wife. You have to learn the lingo.”

“Foals, then. To me they're babies. I don't see the big difference.”

He shook his head, his dark eyes twinkling. “I can tell right now that you're going to take some work.”

“I'm a fast learner. That little guy who was trying to eat my slacks—what's his name?”

“Glutton.”

She almost choked on a berry. “I thought everyone had a biblical name.”

“Gluttony is mentioned in the Bible. As a nickname, it'll do for now. I like to think on it for a while before coming up with official names for the quarter-horse registry. I'm sure there's a character in scripture who always worried about where his next meal would come from. I'll probably name Glutton after him.”

“Hmm. I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I'll come up with something.”

“See there?” He offered her a grape from his bowl. “You're already acting like a rancher's wife.”

Loni accompanied Clint to the stables while he did morning chores. When she grabbed a pitchfork to help him and Hooter clean stalls, he protested.

“You don't have to do that, honey. Hooter and I've got it covered.” He glanced at his watch. “Reinforcements will be rolling in soon. I keep a full crew on weekdays. My wife won't be needed or expected to do any dirty work.”

Loni pitched some hay from Uriah's stall out into the paddock, where someone would soon collect it with a small tractor equipped with a forked shovel. “I want to learn,” she protested. “That way if you ever do need my help, I'll know what to do.”

Uriah, who'd been left to wander loose in the arena while his stall was cleaned, snorted and bobbed his head.

“See?” Loni said with a laugh. “Uriah votes in my favor. I may never do any of this stuff on a regular basis, but being familiar with all the chores surely can't hurt.”

Clint leaned across the gate to give her a quick kiss. “I love you. Have I mentioned that yet this morning?”

He'd told her in a dozen different ways. “No,” she lied with a grin.

“I love you, lady. More than you'll ever know.”

“Back to work!” Hooter hollered from across the arena, looking like the very epitome of an Old West movie character in his battered Stetson, red suspenders, shortened jeans, and scuffed boots. The improbable protrusions of his handlebar mustache at each side of his craggy face only added to the effect. “You young pups are makin' my ears burn.”

Clint winked at Loni. “As soon as we're married I'll make love to you in the hayloft,” he whispered. “After-hours, of course, so we'll have some privacy. Once Hooter goes up to his apartment, nothing but horse noises wakes him.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Isn't hay prickly?”

He grinned devilishly. “If you notice the prickles, darlin', I won't be doing my job.”

Loni resumed forking soiled clumps of hay from Uriah's stall. In what seemed like no time at all her palms started to sting, and when she looked down she saw that the soft flesh at the base of her fingers was turning red. Blisters. Or what soon would be blisters. She set the fork aside to exit the stall.