Lifeline Echoes (15 page)

"Parting is sorrow, darlin', but there's
nothing sweet about it. Whatever your reasons for not being there,
wherever you are now, I sure hope you're well and happy."

His decision made, he leaned over, opened
the glove compartment, dropped the angel inside, and slammed the
door. He considered calling Joe back and telling him to drop the
hunt, then shrugged. As with all the other leads, nothing was
likely to come of this one anyway.

****

Melanie finished clearing the table from the
last lunch customer. "Whooee! That was a bigger than normal lunch
crowd."

Sandy shrugged. "If it keeps up, I'll see if
I can find someone part time for lunches."

Mel balanced the bus tray on the end of the
bar and opened the dishwasher, adding the mugs from the tray. When
she looked up at Sandy again, she wore a speculative expression.
"How did your day out with Ry go?"

"It had some interesting twists." Sandy
tilted her head and surveyed her friend. "Speaking of twists, did I
miss the part of the story where you told me the prodigal son was
Sean's brother?"

Mel smiled and shrugged. "Did I forget to
mention that? Huh."

Sandy huffed an impatient breath. "Mel,
what's the real story there? With Bull and Ryan?"

Shaking her head, Mel looked away, her eyes
clouded with doubt. "I can't answer that."

"Can't or won't?" Sandy asked in a sharp
tone.

Mel shoved the tray further onto the bar.
Drawing a deep breath, she turned to face Sandy and settled her
hands on her hips. "Can't, because it's not mine to tell. Besides I
don't know all the details. The families haven't gotten along since
Sean and I were kids. Ryan left when I was twelve and Sean
thirteen. I knew Sean was upset, but my mom told me Ryan went to
college. Then, I—left Orson's Folly when I was thirteen. By the
time I got back, things were different between me and Sean. He
doesn’t tell me everything anymore."

Mel looked so distressed, Sandy felt bad for
pushing her. "I'm sorry, Mel." Sandy picked up the bus tray. "I'm
just a little spooked, I guess. I know something deeper is going on
but the town seems pretty closed up about it."

Mel's smile flashed again. "You know who you
should ask, don't you? If you want the whole truth, you need to ask
Ryan himself."

Sandy shrugged. She couldn’t dispute Mel
there. But how would Ryan react to direct questioning about an
obviously sore subject?

"We probably won't get anyone in before
dinnertime now," said Mel. "I'm going on break so I can run to the
bank."

Sandy's breath caught and her hands began a
fine trembling. She stuffed them in the pockets of her long pink
sweater, and reminded herself the bar's cook, Charlotte Hains, was
just on the other side of the silver doors leading to the
kitchen.

"Um, yeah, go ahead." She stooped and
pretended interest in the shelf of beer mugs beneath the bar so Mel
wouldn't notice her reluctance to be alone.

Apparently Mel saw through the act. "What's
up with you, being all edgy? And what's with the granny getup? It's
a bazillion degrees outside and not much cooler in here. At least
unbutton the sweater."

Sandy repositioned a few of the beer mugs
before looking up. "I must be coming down with something. Go on to
the bank, Mel. I'll cover."

Alone in the bar, Sandy's agitated hands
fussed with a pyramid of beer mugs. After her third attempt to line
them up evenly, she impatiently slid them all to the side. The
sound of clinking glass was a welcome interruption to the silence.
Drawing a deep, calming breath, Sandy started over.

She arranged the first layer of beer mugs,
cursing Bull for his late night visit. He'd invaded her home, her
sanctuary. She added another layer, then a third. Sandy had no idea
what had set his eye in her direction but it was a fair bet it had
something to do with Ryan.

She stacked the last few mugs and stepped
back. The pyramid of beer mugs looked like a child had built it but
Sandy couldn't bring herself to care, directing her attention
instead to the rack of margarita glasses.

****

"I sure could go for a cold beer." Mick's
voice was getting hoarse.

"I'll have one waiting for you," promised
Sandy. "Or we could go for margaritas."

"Good grief! You're the perfect woman,
Angel."

Through his teasing, she could sense his
fatigue. She wanted to cry but stemmed the tears and laughed
instead.

"Far from that. But I can get a thirsty man
a beer."

"And I'll take that beer," he said
seriously. "Then I'll kiss the most beautiful gal on earth! After
that we'll go find dinner and that pitcher of margaritas and we’ll
spend the night watching the stars. 'Cause I won't want to be
indoors anytime soon. You ever make out under a starry sky?"

Heat assaulted her face. "No, but I'm
thinking you plan to show me what I'm missing."

"You smiling, Angel? You sound like maybe
you're smiling."

"I am." Then she laughed.

"Give me something to picture here. What do
you look like?"

“
I'm average everything.
Average height and build, brown hair, blue eyes."

"I'll bet you have a killer smile."

"I have a crooked smile," she assured
him.

"How long is your hair?"

"Short. Really short."

"Dang, you got me, girl," he chuckled. "I
was picturing running my hands through it, all chocolate silk,
laying around your shoulders."

"You'd be a day late for that. I just got it
cut yesterday. I like it short in the summertime."

"Do you dance?"

"Not very well."

"Too bad," he said. "I wanted to dance at
our wedding."

"I'll take lessons," she offered. "Just for
you. Besides, after a pitcher of margaritas you might not care how
I dance."

****

When the front door opened, Sandy's hands
jerked, knocking two of the margarita glasses to the floor, where
they bounced once, hit the base of the bar and shattered. She
stooped to pick them up, cursing at the sting of glass piercing her
flesh.

"You okay, Sandy?" Sheriff Dirk Cooper,
affectionately known as DC since childhood, hurried over to her. He
hissed a breath in through his teeth when he saw the blood.

"It looks worse than it is," Sandy assured
him.

He took hold of her hand and looked for
himself, nodding. "Yep, you've got two little cuts here on the base
of your thumb. They don't look too deep but they ought to be
cleaned out. Got a first-aid kit?"

She pointed to a green box beneath the
sink.

"I can't believe I'm such a klutz!"
exclaimed Sandy, dumping the pieces of glass into the tall
trash.

DC pulled her to her feet, turned on the
faucet, and held Sandy's hand under the running water. He ran his
thumb lightly over the cuts. "Does it feel like you've got anything
stuck in there?"

She giggled. "No, but that really
tickles."

DC applied a couple of band-aids then pulled
her hand to his lips and made a show of kissing it.

"Lisa insists this makes everything feel
better," he said very seriously. "Last night she fell off her bike
and suggested rather strongly I needed to kiss her backside."

"Your toddler essentially told you to kiss
her butt? How does a parent handle that?"

"The same way I handle all the dad stuff
that scares the crap out of me," DC replied. "I sent her off to
find her mother."

****

Sandy's laugh rang across the bar and
slammed into Ryan at the door. His steps faltered briefly, when he
saw the sheriff holding her hand and pressing a kiss to her
palm.

“
DC, I heard you went to
the dark side,” Ryan said from the end of the bar, stemming the
prick of jealousy.

Recognition took a few seconds. Then Ryan's
old friend was crossing the distance between them. "And I heard you
went to the hot side." DC clapped Ryan on the shoulder. "Welcome
home, man."

"I was just at your office," Ry told the
sheriff in a low voice. "Got something I need to show you but. . ."
His eyes slid toward Sandy as she approached.

DC caught the signal and nodded. "I was just
about to order some lunch. Why don't you join me?"

"What can I get you two?" Sandy slid a menu
in front of DC with a smile. She slapped one in front of Ryan with
a little more force.

Startled, Ryan shifted his eyes in her
direction. Anyone else might have missed it, the hint of some
indefinable emotion in her eyes; anger or fear or sadness. Or
doubt. She covered well, but her eyes mirrored something troubling
inside. And not even her perfect makeup was covering the deep
shadows beneath eyes that looked like they hadn't known any more
sleep the previous night than he had himself. His conversation with
the sheriff would have to wait.

Glancing over at DC, Ryan answered, "How
about a table for three and your company for lunch?"

Sandy stiffened and he thought she was going
to refuse. Finally, she shrugged and set another place. She didn’t
talk much through the meal and Ryan found himself giving one and
two-word responses to his old friend as he tried to pin down the
emotions that occasionally played across Sandy's face.

They were midway through the meal when DC
received a call from his office.

"That's just great!" He closed his cell
phone. "Someone went and started a fire at Lantree's Lumber."
Standing, he took a last bite of his hamburger. "I gotta go."

When he reached for his wallet, Sandy waved
him off. "You know your money's no good in here. Now go save the
world!"

Ryan watched her through narrowed eyes. That
was her first honest laugh since he'd arrived. And it didn't last
long.

"You're paying the sheriff off with free
meals?"

Guileless blue eyes began to twinkle again.
"Of course!"

She was coming back, he thought, but not
quite there yet. Reaching over the table, Ryan took one of her
hands in his. "Hey you," he said softly. "I missed you last night.
It took me less than a mile to wish I'd stayed."

Again a flicker of trouble floated back into
her eyes but it was gone too quickly for him to discern what it
was. She said nothing, merely sighed and turned her face away
him.

The door opened behind her and Sandy jerked,
nearly knocking her drink from the table in her move to see who had
entered.

"Sorry I'm late," Mel apologized. She
breezed through to the kitchen without waiting for a response.

"Okay, what's up? You're jumpy." His eyes
swept over the body she had wrapped beneath layers of baggy
clothing. "I don't know what you're wearing but it's not you. And
your eyes . . . sweetheart. . ." He leaned forward to kiss her
gently, trying not to read too much into her obvious flinch. "Is
it—are you having second thoughts about seeing me?"

Sandy's breath caught. "No! That is—I—it's
not—" A tear spilled over.

He felt like a jerk for making her cry.
"Chicory, I'm trying to understand what's going on but you aren't
making much sense here."

"Last night, right after you left, I was
going to take a bath. The water was running and I was getting
undressed, when I heard a knock on the door." She gulped in a
breath.

"Who was at the door?" He brought her hand
to his lips, keeping his gaze focused on her face.

"I thought it was you but it—" Another deep
breath.

Ryan stroked her fingers with his thumb.
"Whatever it is, you're safe now."

"I opened the door with some smart comment
about missing me and spending the night and—" She swallowed
convulsively. "Bull was there."

Ryan went completely cold. Of its own
accord, his body tensed, readied itself for violence. "Did he touch
you?" Anger and alarm fused to form a band of steel, squeezing his
chest, compressing his lungs, making it impossible to breathe while
he waited for her to answer.

Sandy shook her head. "No, but he wanted to
very badly. I saw it in his eyes." She clutched the edges of her
sweater, tugging them closed. "I could feel it. When he looked at
me, it felt like he was already touching me."

Ryan turned his head away, unable to look at
her while he struggled to control the rage searing its way through
his psyche. His free hand clenched. Each ragged breath he drew was
like inhaling flames. He should have been there. He shouldn't have
left her alone.

He turned back to her. "Has this happened
before?"

Sandy shook her head. "No. He comes in here
sometimes. We've met around town. I hired his son to do landscape
work this spring. He's never come by my apartment, and mostly he's
just . . . pathetic." She ground the tears from her cheeks with the
heels of her hands. "He's never caused any problems until. . ."

"Until I came back."

She raised her face again and now he could
see sparks of anger mixed with apprehension. "Ryan, is there
something I should know?"

What his massive efforts to check his temper
couldn't do, her question accomplished. Ryan could feel the rage
bubbling under the surface but compassion nudged it aside. She did
deserve to know the truth. But man, he really dreaded the look he
might see in her eyes when he told her everything.

"Yeah. There is." He stood, maneuvered
around the table, and drew Sandy to her feet. With gentle hands, he
cupped her cheeks, raised her face so he could look at her, wiping
away the last of her tears with his thumbs. Seeing the struggle
between anger and hope being waged in her eyes, he groaned and
pulled her against him. She held herself rigid but he refused to
loosen his grasp and finally she relaxed into the embrace.

Burying his face in her hair, Ryan breathed
deeply, filling himself with her scent, before pulling back to meet
her eyes again. "Sandy, listen to me. You expected it to be someone
you trusted at your door. You had no reason to think otherwise. If
it had been Sean, or DC—anyone but Bull, you probably would have
had a good laugh about it. Our history is—it's complicated, and
it's not pleasant. And I'm so, so sorry that it's touching
you."