Lightning Only Strikes Twice (26 page)

He obliged with a peck to her cheek that barely touched her skin. Her full, pink-glossed lips turned to a pout that he ignored as he sat at the tiny table.

The waiter appeared, holding a bottle of champagne.

Luke glanced at the waiter with raised brows.

“I ordered their best tonight,” Emmaline purred, seeing Luke’s surprise. “After all we’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” Luke said. The evening was taking a wrong direction, already.

“Of course, darling.” Long painted fingernails rested lightly on his arm. “You were snatched from the jaws of death. We have to celebrate life.” She squeezed his arm then smiled at the waiter. “Please.”

The wine was poured and Luke lifted the flute to his lips intent on downing the beverage.

“To us.” Emmaline raised her glass.

Luke paused. Good manners wouldn’t allow him to ignore the toast. He tipped his glass to hers and then dispatched the drink in a single swallow. It wasn’t as strong as he’d like, but it would do for now. Picking up the bottle, he refilled his flute. If Emmaline objected, she wisely kept it to herself.

“I saw your father off at the airport,” she said, unfolding her napkin with practiced care. “He was very excited about the trip.”

This time, Luke took his time with his drink. “So excited, he didn’t stick around to make sure I was well enough to go back to work.”

Alarm shadowed her face. “I thought you said you were fine.”

Luke set his glass carefully on the table. “I am.”

“I don’t think you are.” She shook her head. The muted light reflected off her pale locks. “I can tell you’ve changed. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Luke slid the menu aside. He’d never really credited Emmaline with much intuition, but tonight she’d caught on to his mood quickly. He’d hoped to have a quiet discussion after dinner, but maybe it was best to get it over with. “I think I have changed. I suppose a near-death experience can do that to a person.”

“All the more reason to embrace life.” She inched closer to him and leaned forward, offering an unobstructed view of her ample cleavage.

Luke’s thoughts flashed on the predatory working girls in White Rock. Emmaline had that same hungry expression. So different from the fresh innocence Annie offered. “You’re right about that. In fact—”

“Your father hinted it was time for you to settle down.” She interrupted. Her palm slid up his arm and rested on the juncture of his neck. Her fingertips skated over his ear into his hair.

“I know what my father wants.” He endured her advances only for a moment before pulling back. “Unfortunately, it’s not what I want.”

A crease marred her brow as she sat back in her seat. “What do you want, Luke?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” he said slowly. “But I don’t think it’s fair to let you believe we can be anything more than friends.”

She curled her fingers and drew her hands to her lap. “Oh, but darling, we’ve been more than friends for months.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his regret sincere.

She paled, her eyes wide as she stared at him. “What are you trying to tell me?”

He met her stare with uncompromising resolution. It was his fault their relationship had gone on too long. He’d led her on, believing it would work. Except now, he’d changed. He could no longer live with surface pretenses.

Before this last weekend, he hadn’t really thought about how hard it was to disappoint another person. This was one instance where he must be true to himself first. “I’m suggesting we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

Emmaline gasped. Shock colored her cheeks an unflattering crimson. She quickly shut her mouth and brought her napkin to her lips. The glittering points of her eyes belied her distress. “You’re dumping me?”

Luke winced at the crude term, even though it was true. “If you want to put it that way, yes. I was going to tell you last week, but—”

“Perhaps we should save this discussion for later,” she said, lowering her voice and glancing around at the other patrons who seemed to take a furtive interest after her outburst. “You’ve been through so much. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying, Emmaline.” His voice was firm. “There’s nothing to discuss. We aren’t right for each other, surely you can see that.”

“Absolutely not. We’re the perfect couple. Even the papers say we belong together. What am I going to say to the girls at the club?”

For a while, he’d suspected much of his appeal was his money and prestige. Her last statement removed any doubt. “I don’t care what you tell your friends or the paper.”

“Are you seeing another woman?” The words hissed through her clenched teeth.

He started at the question,

“Is it that little mouse who sold you the property?”

“No,” Luke said. “Annie Crawford has nothing to do with this. I made the decision some time ago. I should have told you sooner.”

Emmaline blinked and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, she lowered her napkin to reveal a quivering lower lip. “You’re a son of a bitch to do this to me.”

Luke should have been surprised by her act, but sadly, he wasn’t. “You’re a survivor, Emmaline. You always have been.” He stood, removed two hundred dollars from his wallet and tossed the bills on the table. “For dinner and a cab home.”

She started to reach for cash, then snatched her hand back. “I don’t want your money,” she sniffed. “I want you.”

“I don’t think you know the difference,” Luke said. He glanced through the shadows of the restaurant and spotted one of Emmaline’s old boyfriends. “You’ll do fine without me.”

Emmaline’s gaze strayed to where Luke was looking. Her expression changed to one of opportunity.

“Just have the decency to wait until my chair’s cooled,” Luke said.

Her narrowed gaze speared him, but he ignored her.

Straightening his tie, he found his way to the front of the restaurant. After tipping the valet, he sped away as though he’d just escaped a sacrifice on the devil’s altar.

Chapter Fifteen

Luke sat in his car across the street from Annie’s condo duplex watching the bluish glow of a television flicker behind her curtains. For the past fifteen minutes, he’d been contemplating going to her door and accepting her offer for coffee.

He half suspected she’d made the invitation more out of politeness and gratitude rather than some deeper emotion. If he’d learned anything about Annie Crawford over the last few weeks, it was that she was courteous, even when it conflicted with her opinions. He smiled to himself, remembering how their colliding opinions triggered a chain of events neither of them could have imagined.

He should be sitting across from Annie, listening to her soft voice as she talked about her day. He was totally at ease when he was around her.

His thoughts back-pedaled. His recollections were based on impossible circumstances that might not have occurred.

Regardless, he couldn’t completely relegate the experience to the background. Yet something kept him from accepting that he and Annie had really been in 1891.

What he needed was proof of the time travel. Proof he hadn’t lost his mind. Proof that would denounce all those who said they’d had a freak accident.

Without tangible evidence, the only place anything happened was in his head. Talking about it would make everyone believe he was crazy.

How ironic that, here in the present, he was leery of frightening Annie. When they were in White Rock, he hadn’t thought twice about the lengths he’d gone to prove they’d traveled to the past. Was he so afraid of social pressure—his reputation—that he couldn’t get out of his car and confront the woman he’d come to love?

Love? He’d never told her he loved when they were in White Rock…if they were in White Rock.

He should have.

She deserved to know he cared.

He reached for the door handle.

Across the street, the light in her front room went out. He’d taken too long to decide. He didn’t know if he was relieved or regretted the missed opportunity. At least for tonight, the choice was out of his hands.

A few moments later, another light came on through the upstairs window and glowed warmly. Shadows moved back and forth across her curtains.

Luke imagined Annie preparing for bed. Changing out of her work clothes, brushing her long, chestnut hair. Simply remembering those silky strands draped carelessly over his bare chest made his lower abdomen clench.

A glare of headlights sliced across his windshield, momentarily blinding him. A police cruiser coasted past. The officer inside gave Luke a long, attentive look.

Swearing silently to himself, Luke whipped out his cell phone and placed it against his ear. He didn’t need a citation for loitering, or worse, to be hauled to the station as a Peeping Tom.

After the cruiser passed, he put the phone away and started the engine. With a final glance at Annie’s window, he shoved the car in gear. While he waited at the intersection for traffic to clear, he glimpsed in his rearview mirror.

The cruiser had flipped a U-turn and advanced along the street toward him.

A hole in the traffic opened and Luke turned right onto Broadway and headed to his apartment. Another check in his rearview mirror showed the patrol car turning the opposite direction.

Luke pounded the steering wheel once in frustration. Obviously, if he was going to find the answers to what had happened to them, he couldn’t do it by staking out Annie’s neighborhood like a clichéd P.I. movie. It was smarter to stay away until he had a better handle on what to do next.

He couldn’t go storming her home—declaring his feelings—if it had never happened.

****

Annie fought the sheets tangled around her legs. Cold sweat coated her forehead and neck. She sat up in bed and listened.

The baby’s cries had stopped.

Her breath shuddered through her lips. There was no baby. It was a dream.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress, she stared at the digital alarm clock. Almost three a.m. The backlit numbers were a far cry from the singing robin that had awakened her each morning in White Rock. At least there, the daily labor had left her so exhausted she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Tonight would be another long battle to capture an hour or two of rest.

She wiped the dampness from her neck with the corner of the sheet and tried to shake off the effects of her dream. A dream where she watched Elizabeth die and awoke to the sound of baby Richard whimpering for his mother. A dream that was all too real.

Although some memories were fading, she recalled other details with such clarity.

Paul and Elizabeth Crawford weren’t simply names—she knew them. She knew Luke, too. Not as the state’s most eligible bachelor and wealthy developer, but as the man who’d made sweet love to her in the cool forest night.

She knew the cadence of his voice as he talked about his day. The touch of his hand when conversation ran dry and they turned to each other for comfort. The taste of his kiss.

A tear slid down her cheek. Annie brushed it away with an impatient hand.

She relived his visit earlier tonight. If what happened in the aspen grove wasn’t a dream, then why hadn’t he said anything?

Why hadn’t
she
said something?

Luke acted like a polite acquaintance, not like the man who’d made love to her and proposed marriage.

The newspapers said he already had a fiancée. Annie had no illusions she could compete with the pretty socialite in the photo.

Luke hardly knew her. Her imagination had manufactured everything while unconscious under the pine tree.

She wished she could rid herself of the feeling that it had all been real. She should accept that was an accident caused by the lightning.

What she
should
do and what she
could
do, were worlds apart.

Perhaps if she returned to the grove, she could put some perspective on these images and memories that haunted her.

She padded into the bathroom and automatically reached for the light switch. Her hand froze. It was harder now to take modern conveniences for granted—harder not to appreciate the sacrifices made by her great-great grandparents. Remorse at the loss of her family’s property crowded in her chest.

She squared her shoulders. The sale was final. Even if she could, she wouldn’t renege on the contract.

Running the cold water for a moment, she filled a glass to drink. The clear, fresh water slid down her throat, quenching her thirst.

Whatever the future held for her, she’d face it with the same determination, courage, and grace Paul and Elizabeth had shown. Somehow, she’d find the strength to make it through long the days ahead.

Annie turned out the light and climbed back in bed—hollowness blanketing her mood.

Once there had been her grandfather, then Paul, Elizabeth…and Luke. Now there was no one.

It was a while before sleep overtook her. This time, her dreams weren’t of a baby’s cry for his dying mother, but of a man who’d taught her about love. If only for a short while.

****

The next day at work, Annie told her supervisor she had some unfinished business regarding the sale of her property and arranged to leave early.

Her request wasn’t entirely untrue. Until she saw the land again, walked the places she been with Luke and Elizabeth, she wouldn’t be able to move forward with her life, let alone concentrate on her job. She was grateful her boss approved the time on such short notice.

Following the roads out of the city, Annie turned her little Volkswagen onto Highway 21 and headed north toward White Rock. If the groundbreaking was on schedule, this visit might be the last time she would see the old mill.

She arrived at the turn-off just before four in the afternoon. Tall lodgepole pines and quaking aspens lined the road into the property. A broken section of an old wood fence marked the entrance to the ghost town.