One True Heart (20 page)

Beau Yates woke from a sound sleep a little after midnight. He had an IV in his hand and bandages covering the back of his head. For a while he lay very still and tried to remember what had happened. He recalled every detail of his father's funeral yesterday. The preacher had said his old man must have been on a fast train to heaven, but somehow Beau doubted that. Then he'd played songs, not caring that his father wouldn't have liked it.

As he hugged everyone good-bye, he'd seen Trouble several yards away. She'd come to the funeral, not because she knew his father, but to make sure he was all right. She had on a suit that should have been worn by a woman twice her age and her pretty blond hair was tied up in that knot he hated. But still, it meant a great deal that she'd come.

He'd turned back, planning to walk over to her when all the mourners were gone, but she'd disappeared.

After the funeral he'd talked to Ruth awhile, promising help if she ever needed it. His stepmother just seemed to want to go back home. Beau sensed that nothing in the boxes
she packed had anything of her marriage or her time in Harmony.

He'd driven around and finally ended up at Buffalo's Bar. In many ways Beau felt like he'd grown up in that bar. He'd learned to play for a crowd there. He'd seen the best in people and the worst. Only after the funeral all he wanted to do was drink until his mind numbed.

Now, hours later in the hospital, he could still taste the whiskey he'd downed and then thrown up. He wasn't sure if the effects of the alcohol were splitting his brain in two or if it was the tree branch that someone had swung at his head a few times like they were swinging for a home run.

As his eyes focused, he saw a slender woman in the corner with her hair in a ponytail.

“Hello, Trouble,” he said, sounding like a frog.

She pushed away from the wall and moved closer. Without asking, she poured him a glass of water.

He drank it down, then held it out for another.

“I went by Winter's Inn tonight but the cops were there.”

Beau loved her low southern voice. Southern women often have that sweet sound of Mother Earth and midnight passion in their voices. Beau closed his eyes wondering if he could play music that sounded like that.

She slid her hand lightly over the blanket covering his leg. “I heard you were hurt. How are you feeling now, Beau?”

He finished the second glass and waited for her to fill it again. “Terrible, Trouble. You sure you didn't run over me with that red Mustang tonight?”

“Nope. I'd rather have you in the seat next to me. If you could get out of that bed, we could race the moon again. Just two kids living a dream.”

Her hand covered his and the warmth of her fingers spread over his body. She was dressed in a plain cotton shirt and jeans. If he hadn't known better he'd guess her at sixteen. He felt like he'd lived a hundred lifetimes in the years he'd been gone but she hadn't changed. She was still his fantasy of the beginning of summer love, first love.

“Come on, Beau, ride with me one last time. You could be seventeen again.”

He shook his head and then regretted it. The drugs they'd given him made him fight sleep, but he knew what he had to do. “No, Trouble, we've got to grow up sometime.”

Beau couldn't believe he was stepping out of a fantasy he'd had for years. She'd always been there in the back of his mind, racing the moon, wild in the night.

She took his hand and held it tight. “I don't want to,” she whispered. “I like who I was, who I am with you.” Lowering her head, she kissed his hand. “I'm afraid you wouldn't like the woman your Trouble has become.”

Beau saw her then for the first time. He'd always seen the girl; he'd never really looked at the woman. Even when he'd met her in the bank, the woman had only been a mask his Trouble was wearing.

“Give me a chance, Lark.” He used her middle name, knowing that it fit her far better now than Trouble or Ashley. “Give me one chance to see you. The real you. I have a feeling I'd like the woman who grew from Trouble very much.”

She was just as beautiful as he remembered, but now he saw that she was playing a role. The mask she wore tonight was that of the girl he remembered, not the other way around. The red boots. The ponytail. Probably even the clothes were all part of pretending she was in another time, another place.

“My grandfather used to call me Lark.” She laced her fingers with Beau's. “He always said it was a name I'd grow into someday.”

“It does fit you.” Beau watched her. “Would you take the ribbon from your hair?”

She let go of his hand and pulled her hair free. Long blond strands caressed her shoulders just as he thought they would. Lovely. Sexy.

He liked what he saw. “Tell me about you, Lark. I'll always see a little of Trouble in you, but I want to go deeper tonight.”

She sat on the end of his bed and they talked. She told him about her schooling and how she hated banking but her
father thought she should go into the family business. She told him of summer studies in Europe and how until she was twenty she rode her horse almost every day after school. He thought he saw the shy girl she must have been with everyone but him. He figured out how the girl turned into a woman who thought she always had to be in control.

“Racing the moon with you was the only wild thing I ever did. A guy like you wouldn't have given me a second look if you'd seen me in school.”

“A guy like me?”

Touching the side of his face, she whispered, “Didn't you know that every girl, every woman, who saw you wanted you back then? They still do. Only you don't see past the music. I've watched you, Beau. You play for yourself, not the crowd. It doesn't matter to you if it's a drunken bar crowd or a concert in a stadium. You're playing from your heart and we're all voyeurs listening in as you pour out your soul.”

“You're wrong, Lark, I would have seen you in high school, if I'd have been there. I missed most of my last two years. I was lucky to graduate. After high school I picked up classes online between gigs, but you'll find I have some real gaps in my studies.”

He cupped the side of her face when he noticed she didn't look like she believed him. “You're wrong. I would have seen you. I think I've always seen you. I saw you then, Trouble, and I see you now.”

She nodded as one tear drifted along her cheek.

As the night rolled on, he told her of life on the road and his fight to make something of himself. He described how failure was not an option with him because he had no fallback plan. He always knew he was going to make it in the music business because he wanted it with every ounce of his being.

When he'd signed his first big deal earlier this year someone asked him if he ever thought he'd make it so far so fast. His answer had been simply,
yes
. Making it big had been all he'd thought about from the beginning. Not for the fame or the money, but more because it was meant to be.

She swore her life was the opposite. She wasn't meant to be a banker, but somehow she'd stepped on the train heading in that direction and nothing she could do would stop it. Her parents insisted on her majoring in business.

They laughed about growing up in different towns thirty miles apart. How so many things were the same. They talked of their fathers and realized how both, in their way, had made Beau and her what they were today.

Finally, deep in the night they told each other how much the times they'd raced into the night had meant to them. For both, those nights they'd driven the back roads with the top down were their only taste of real freedom. He said he'd never looked at another woman without comparing her to Trouble, and she admitted she never could get serious with another guy because Beau had a piece of her heart.

A nurse came in about four
A.M
. and told Beau he needed to sleep. She obviously didn't know who he was. For him the night had always been his time to be alive.

Lark stood to go as the nurse shot medicine into Beau's IV, but he wouldn't turn her hand loose. When the nurse left, he whispered, “I don't want to lose you again. You may think what we had was more dream than real, but sometimes I swear you're the only real thing in my life.”

“Which of me do you not want to lose?” she said, and waited for the answer as if it were the most important question she'd asked in her life.

“You, Lark. I don't want to lose you. I'll always have Trouble in my memory, but I'd like to think I'd have a chance with you in my future.”

“We'll see,” she said as she leaned in and kissed him good night.

He'd been too drugged by the medicine flowing through his IV to truly feel the kiss. She gently pushed him back on the pillows as she turned the kiss to a feather-light touch against his lips.

He drifted off thinking he didn't want this one kiss to end.

W
EDNESDAY

Millanie insisted on going to the doctor the morning after Beau had been hurt. The happenings of the night before demanded it.

First she wanted to check on the singer, and second, she wanted to ask Dr. Spencer a few questions. Patience had never been a trait Millanie cultivated. In her organized way she realized she couldn't make decisions without facts, and she'd waited long enough for the truth.

After making it down a long hallway to Beau's room, she found him sound asleep. She'd read on the Internet that folks called him an outlaw in country music, but in a hospital gown and asleep he didn't look like much of an outlaw. There was something about the man, so talented, and probably so rich, yet he had a bit of the lost boy inside him. He was the kind of man every woman near his age took the time to flirt with, and as far as she could see every man he knew called him friend. Well, every man but one. The one who'd almost knocked his brains out.

The doctor had finished her rounds and was waiting in her office by the time Millanie managed to maneuver the hallways on crutches.

Dr. Addison Spencer was much loved and respected in Harmony. Many said she could have had a million-dollar practice in any big city, but she loved Tinch Turner and Harmony.

Millanie felt comfortable around the all-business Addison. She'd had enough medical people who wanted to baby her. Millanie got right to the point. “I need to know about my leg so I can make plans.”

She didn't say that the plans were whether to fall in love for the first time. That wasn't important to the conversation. All she needed to know was how bad the crippling would be.

Addison stood and walked around her desk. “I've read your records and sent the X-rays to two experts. The wounds were bad enough to give you a medical discharge from the army, so we're not dealing with something that will heal without a great deal of patience and effort. The army did not think you'd be able to continue your duties, but that doesn't mean you can't live a full and normal life.”

“I understand. But how bad will my leg be when all the work is done? I can handle anything if I have a hint of what's coming. I don't want to just hear the good news. I need to know it all.”

To Millanie's surprise, the doctor said, “Let's take off the cast and see.”

An hour later, after new X-rays and several tests, Millanie sat on the exam table and waited for the doctor to finish poking. Her right leg looked pale and slightly thinner than her left. Two large scars jetted across her ankle and her knee. A dozen other small wounds had healed into star-shaped scars.

“The knee seems to be healing fine. Much better than expected.” Dr. Spencer wasn't sugarcoating the news. “The ankle will probably need at least one more surgery before you can put weight on it. We can leave the cast off, but you'll have to wear a brace until after you've had at least one
surgery on that ankle.” Addison met her gaze. “That means a brace all the time, night and day. Anytime there is the slightest chance you'd put weight on the ankle. One time coming down on that bone with your weight might cause more damage.”

Millanie nodded. She could deal with anything as long as she knew the facts. She stared at the ugly scar running six inches across her knee. “I'll wear the brace. Day and night.”

“If you use a crutch to balance you can take a shower without it.” Addison touched the red scar as if she could brush it away. “You'll be able to use a cane with the brace, but you must be very careful of falling. I'd suggest a walker, but I have a feeling you wouldn't go for that. I don't think you'll have trouble balancing with the cane.”

Millanie nodded.

“I've got a relative who is a great plastic surgeon. He'd come if I ask him. Maybe we could take this scar down to a thick pencil line when we do the surgery.”

“Let's give it a try.” Millanie could easily deal with a line. Maybe she wouldn't wear as many dresses, but she'd always preferred pants anyway.

“You're willing to stay in Harmony that long?” The doctor seemed surprised.

“I am.” Millanie made up her mind. “I'm thinking of remodeling an old house.”

Addison smiled. “This town has a way of taking in strays. It took me in and it looks like it's hooked you too, Captain. You know, if you stay here we'll be almost related. My husband's mother was a McAllen.”

Millanie laughed. “Everyone around is either related to me directly or married into the family. But in your case, I'm glad to know we're almost kin.”

“That has its advantages. You'll see.” The doctor picked up her pen and began to write. “We'll start by setting you up with some physical therapy three days a week. On the other days you'll need to walk some. Not till it's painful, but as you get used to the brace you'll forget you have it on.”

“I doubt it.”

Addison stood. “While you get dressed, I'll call Martha Q to come get you. Will you be staying at the bed-and-breakfast during the recovery?”

“No, just until I get the old McAllen place in livable condition. I'm moving back there. It turns out I've owned the place since I was nineteen and didn't even know it.” As always, Millanie made up her mind in a blink.

When Martha Q's line was busy, the doctor called Alex McAllen Matheson, the sheriff, to come pick up Millanie. She called back in minutes saying she had a problem at the station and was sending her husband, Hank Matheson, to drive Millanie back to the inn.

Millanie laughed. Apparently if your name was McAllen in this town, you never needed a taxi.

Five minutes later when Hank picked her up at the emergency room doors, he had two of her McAllen cousins in the backseat of his truck. They both wanted to see the homestead, so before she could say she was tired or didn't have time, Hank was driving toward the old house on the first piece of land the McAllens owned.

“It's only a few miles from town,” Hank yelled back to the young McAllens. “You guys could run out there and back for exercise.”

Both men in the backseat groaned. One made a comment that Mathesons were still trying to kill McAllens, so Millanie better be careful.

The cousins were in training to be volunteer firemen and practiced their fireman carry on Millanie all the way to the porch. She'd never felt young, even in her early twenties, but the visit to her new home was an adventure. Before they finished roaming through the place, everyone including Hank was rattling off what had to be done.

Millanie took notes. Every time she said, “How do I find someone to do that?” one of the men named a relative that would either offer to do it free or
give her a good rate
.

When she said she'd like to restore it as close as it was to the original design, Hank suggested they call around and
try to dig up as many pictures as they could with McAllens standing in front of the old house.

Before Millanie knew it, the afternoon was gone and Hank was driving her home.

“I'll call a few McAllens and tell everyone who has pictures to show up at my ranch for supper tomorrow night. My mother and aunts always cook on Fridays and this time it's Mexican food. My aunts make the best green chili enchiladas in the state.

“You'll probably decide to move as soon as you see how many relatives you have,” Hank added. “I'm a Matheson and I've got plenty kin, but my wife has relatives living around here she hasn't had time to meet.

“When the three families first came, Patrick McAllen was the youngest of the three men. The other two had a start on him as far as kids went, but he caught up and passed them all. Legend was that his wife could pop out a baby between loads of laundry.”

“It's overwhelming,” she said. “After my grandmother died, I never thought of having family here.”

Hank grinned. “They were here, waiting. I've heard more than one mention you and comment on how proud they all are of you. You were in their thoughts and prayers, Captain, whether you knew it or not.”

“Would you mind if I brought a friend to the dinner? He's fascinated with the history of this area.”

“Sure.” Hank pulled up in the inn's driveway. “Bring Dr. Cunningham along. We all know you're seeing him.”

She frowned, at first a bit angry that everyone seemed to know her business, but it occurred to her that Friday night might be the perfect time to do a little research. These were just the people to ask about a stranger in their midst.

Once back in her room she called Kare and asked her to pass on a message to her brother. Tell him she was tired and going to bed early just in case he'd planned to drop by. She also asked if he'd take her out to the Matheson ranch Friday night for supper.

Kare said, “Sure, but don't you just want his number?”

Millanie said no. Somehow she thought Drew should give her the number.

When she ended the call, Millanie hadn't set her phone down before it rang.

Drew's voice sounded out of breath. “Hello, Millie,” he said. “I just walked into the bookstore and Kare said you called.”

She repeated the message and he agreed to pick her up at six Friday night. He didn't ask any questions, just said he would be there and, with a quick
good night
, hung up.

She stared at the phone a moment, thinking that for a man who couldn't keep his hands off her last night, he sure didn't seem like he wanted to talk to her tonight.

Maybe it was for the best. Her recovery would take months, maybe longer. She couldn't ask him to hang around and just be friends until she found out if she wanted to be involved. Maybe she should slow things down.

On impulse she picked her phone back up and hit redial.

“Bookstore.” The gravelly voice of Mr. Hatcher was unmistakable.

Millanie hit end, hating herself for checking Drew's story. Why would he lie?