Dedication

To Daddy Hank. For this book, you taught me the difference between a Jonserid and a Husquevarna, a Kenworth and a Peterbilt, a Birch and a Maple. But in life, you taught me the difference between right and wrong, the importance of God and Country, and the vast and undying expanse of a parent’s love. You told me it was okay to dream, and never stopped telling me how proud you were to be my Daddy. I love you.

And to Shalon. You got me through this one. J You taught me and I taught you. I wouldn’t be where I am today, surrounded by so many wonderful people – including you – if it weren’t for that little group you formed so many years ago. So, this one is for you, babe.

Chapter One

Luke Mitchell stopped his old Wrangler in front of the McNeil ranch house in a cloud of dust. Using his Stetson, he waved the gritty powder away and stepped out of the doorless vehicle. His boots crunched on the dry earth as he walked across the yard. The temperature dropped ten degrees beneath the shade of the porch and the frame of the screen door rattled when he knocked on it. He looked into the huge, tiled vestibule beyond.

A small Mexican woman came into sight. She smiled broadly and wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, Luke. Come in. Queres comer, hijo? Big boys like you are always hungry.” She nearly dragged him into the house.

“No, thank you, Mama. I just ate at home.”

“Good, good.” She patted the muscle of his upper arm and smiled wider.

Since his first visit to the McNeil ranch, Lourdes McNeil had treated him like a member of the family. For the last three years of school, once his weight and muscle mass caught up with his six-foot frame, both the football and wrestling teams had tried to get him to join up. Most of his size resulted from the hard hours of work he put in on his stepfather’s farm, but he told everyone it was from Mama McNeil’s cornbread and refried beans. Sometimes she was more of a mother to him than his own mother was.

“Isabella is in her room.”

Luke set his hat down on a table set directly beneath a heavy brass crucifix, and headed down the hall. The hacienda was built in a rectangle, with a long hallway that wrapped around a central courtyard garden. As he walked halfway around the house, he struggled over what to say to the girl he would soon see.

For the three hours before driving to the hacienda, he had rolled over in his mind, again and again, how he would make her understand.

No one meant more to him than Bella.

He accepted long ago he would never be able to pinpoint the day he had fallen in love with her, but the actual moment of acceptance would be etched in his mind forever.

Last May, just over a year ago. They were in Brian’s back yard when a huge, black thunderhead rolled in. It covered the horizon, like a blanket thrown over the prairie. Everyone ran for cover in the house as the raindrops pummeled the dry earth. All but Bella. She stood with her back to them and her face to the sky.

“Come on, Bella,” he yelled over the bellowing thunder, running back to her. “We need to get inside!”

She clutched his hand and refused to move. “Can you feel it, Luke? Can you feel it in your blood?”

He stopped and looked at her. She stood straight and unafraid. With her arms stretched out at her side, her delicate face greeted the rain that poured down on her. Like a raven’s wing, her long hair hung straight and black behind her. The warm rain soaked through her clothing, and her tee shirt clung to her body like a second skin. Luke had taken in the view of her breasts through the cotton as if they had just sprung from her body at that moment. He remembered the surge of hot blood racing through his body.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, wonder making them shine bright. “Stand with me, Luke. Feel the thunder. It’s amazing.”

So they stood together in the driving rain, letting the drumming cadence of the storm course through them. Every time the lightning struck, her back arched and she sucked in a jagged breath. By the time the storm ended, Luke was so hard he could barely walk. But he knew he loved her. Somehow, he had fallen in love with his best friend, and it took a thunderstorm to make him realize it. And it wasn’t lust. It was love.

Through his musings, he finally reached her bedroom and knocked softly on the door. He heard a mumbled response over the reverberating hum of the air conditioner. Opening the door slowly, he stepped inside. The ambient temperature inside her bedroom wasn’t higher than maybe sixty-five degrees. Luke looked around in the low light of the room, and his heart dropped when he saw her.

She sat near the head of her bed, wrapped in an oversized pink robe with her knees pulled to her chest. Her dark legs peeked out through the opening in the front of the robe, and her head rested on her knees. In her hand was a crumpled tissue. A half-empty box sat on the bed beside her. She looked up when the door clicked shut behind him. Tears streaked her cheeks, but her face glowered with undeniable rage.

Their stare held for a moment. Luke didn’t know what to say or do next. He stepped forward to speak, and immediately ducked to avoid the paperback that barely missed his left eye.

*****

Isabella shouted every curse, nasty name, and expletive she had ever learned in Spanish at him, a rush of rage taking over.

In the last hour she felt anger, sorrow, desperation, frustration, rage, confusion and love. Each emotion lasted only minutes before the next wave overtook her. She went from hating Luke with every drop of blood in her body, to needing him with every beat of her heart.

Just ten minutes earlier she decided she wanted nothing more than to see him and have him tell her everything would be okay, like he always did. But then she thought about his deception, his lack of trust, and her blood boiled. He came through her bedroom door at the wrong time. Right now, he was the last person on Earth she wanted to see.

Bella could tell by the look on Luke’s face he understood enough of her outburst to know how angry she was. She glared at him, trying to slice through him with her eyes. How dare he think he could walk in and everything would be fine? Her heart stopped when his eyes came back to meet hers.

He held her stare, and Bella tried to hold up her anger against the visible guilt in the ice-blue depths. In a desperate attempt to stay infuriated with him, she jumped off her bed and marched to her bathroom door.

Luke took a step towards her. “I’m sorry, Bella. I was going to tell you.”

“That’s just great, Luke,” she said, turning on him mid-stride. “When were you going to tell me? Huh? As you drove by the end of my driveway on your way out?” With her last outburst, she heard her own voice quiver.

Damn it! Why do I always cry when I’m mad?

“Bella, no. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

She blinked back the hot tears that burned a path down her cheek. “Ripping my heart out with your bare hands would have hurt me less,” she managed to whisper. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to find out from someone else? Allison Brodhi of all people? Do you have any clue how much she enjoyed rubbing it in my face?”

“I'm sorry. I was going to talk to you about it as soon as I got back from the guidance office.”

“You should have talked to me about it before.”

Isabella was jumping out of her own skin. Too many thoughts and emotions raced around inside to stay there. Soon she would implode, and none of it would matter anyway. She paced back and forth in front of him, spanning a space no larger than five square feet.

“Everyone knew about this but me. Everyone. Do you know what kind of a fool I feel like? How could you do that to me?”

He grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop. “Bella, I talked to the others because I didn’t know what to do. I needed to talk it out with someone. I don’t know how Allison found out.”

Bella hit his chest with the side of her fist, and a fresh onslaught of tears overtook her. She tried to stay calm enough to speak, but she knew her voice quaked uncontrollably. “I thought you always talked to me when you needed to talk.”

“I do. But I couldn’t about this.”

Isabella pulled away from his hold and flopped down on the bed. She tucked her knees beneath her chin and hid her face behind her arms. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“I expected everyone else to leave. I knew they would. But you told me you were going to be here. I didn’t care about anyone else as long as I had you.” She lifted her head to look at him. “You told me you were going to school in Tulsa. Were you lying to me?”

“No. Bella, you mean too much to me to talk like that. And you dang well know it.”

He sat beside her and put a hand on her bare foot. The slight contact from him sent a warm, gentle feeling through her. It started at her toes and worked its way up her body. She pressed her eyes shut to try to block it out, but the feeling remained.

“I wasn’t lying to you. I thought I was going to go to school in Tulsa,” he said in a low voice. His fingertips played across the arch of her foot.

She choked back another sob, and her bottom lip quivered slightly. “What happened to change it?” she managed to whisper.

He turned away from her, sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, his knees apart and his elbows resting on them. Leaning forward, he looked like a beaten man. Luke folded his hands and rested the bridge of his nose on his thumbs. She watched his shoulders rise and fall slowly, and her heart stuttered.

“My mother and Frank informed me during the holidays they can’t afford to pay for college. Not even Tulsa Tech.” He stifled a wry chuckle before he continued. “I told you my father set up a savings account for me on my first birthday. My mother got power over the management of it as part of the divorce. Frank liquidated the account when we came here to start the farm. He told my mother the farm would do so well he could pay it back with interest. Of course, he never did.”

In the six years she had known Luke and his stepfather, she had seen Frank Grossman’s selfish streak many times. And its effect on Luke. Luke slept on a mattress on the floor for nearly two years while Frank had new televisions, electronics and any other invention that came along. Frank claimed there wasn’t enough money to buy the growing boy a decent bed.

“When Dad found out, he went ballistic. I’ve never heard him cuss like that. If I hadn’t been half way through my senior year, he would’ve come out here and gotten me. He said as much.”

He looked at her again, and Isabella’s defenses crumbled. A new emotion crept in now. Guilt. He dealt with all this hell by himself, and she was the one ranting and raving.

“I can’t afford school full time. Heck, not even part time. If I go into the Army, I can take classes during my enlistment, and they’ll even pay for my degree when I leave.”

“No matter how you explain it, Luke Mitchell, you’re leaving me behind.”

Luke took her hand, turning back to her some. “Bella, I was wrong. I thought I would have more time after I signed up to explain. I didn’t realize how tough it would be.”

“How could you not know?” Her voice was so quiet she barely heard herself speak. She reached out and gently touched his cheek.

He turned away again and looked down at her floor. She watched as he worked his palms together, the rough sound of his calloused skin rubbing against each other filling the air. Bella laid her hand on his arm, and felt the muscles tense beneath her touch.

“So you are leaving next week.”

Luke nodded, and brought his eyes back to her. “Yes. The morning after graduation.” His voice was heavy.

Isabella stifled the sob that grabbed hold of her heart. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she fought to steady her breathing. The desperate reality hit her like a sledgehammer. She would be without him.

He turned to her, and without thought, she was on her knees and in his embrace. His arms closed around her and he pulled her into his lap. Bella buried her face against the soft cotton of his shirt and clung to him. Luke could be leaving at that moment, and she wouldn’t have felt more frightened and bereft. His arms held her tight as his hands worked a soothing pattern over her back.

She slowly regained her composure, and her breathing steadied. Isabella remained in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder until the feeling passed. Her fingers found the nape of his neck, and she worked them through the soft black hair that brushed his shirt collar. The rise of his chest, as he took a deep breath, brought her out of her musing.

Sliding off his lap, she sat again on the bed and wiped her cheeks. “I’m sorry I got so mad. Lord knows you have every right to do whatever you want. You certainly don’t have to dictate your life by the way I would feel.”

He leaned towards her, so their faces were only inches apart. “But I care about how you feel. I was wrong, and I’ll make it up to you.”

Isabella waved her hand. “No, Luke. You really don’t have anything to make up to me. You have to do this. This is your chance to leave Indian Prairie. Grab it. Take it.”

“When I made this decision, I should’ve told you. I should’ve let you know a long time ago. It was my fault you found out from Allison.” She shook her head in protest, but he continued. “Listen to me. You are the most important person in my life. My best friend. I didn’t want to tell you because it would make me think about what it meant.”

Isabella sighed and looked hard at him. He smiled again, the deep dimples in his cheeks popping to life. “I love you, you know.”

He nodded. “I know. I love you, too.” He stood and walked over to her closet. “So, are you going to get dressed for this party, or are you going in your robe?”

She stood up and spun around on her toes. “What, you don’t like it?”

“Personally, I’m not complaining. You may be my best friend, but I’d be a fool not to notice those legs.” He paused when her pillow bounced off the back of his head. Luke laughed, and pulled a dress out through the open door. It was an ankle-length floral print with a lace collar and puffy sleeves. “How about this? I hear the guys in the Bible Study Group like this.”

She snatched the dress out of his hand, her cheeks burning. Her father made her wear it the week before to mass. Bella hated it. She felt like a Latino china doll in it.

“Get out, and let me find something more suitable. You just go and let Mama make you something to eat. There’s a huge plate of enchiladas and some cornbread left over from dinner.”

Isabella rushed him out with a flutter of her hands, and shut the door. Once he was gone, she dropped her robe and stood in front of her closet in her bra and panties to find something to wear.

Half an hour later, she climbed into Luke’s Jeep. Isabella snagged his Stetson, planted it down on her head to try to save her hairstyle. “Just promise me something.”

He slipped on his sunglasses and started the engine. “What’s that?” he asked as he popped the clutch into reverse.

She reached across the space to lay her hand on his thigh. “That we spend as much time together as possible before you leave?”

“It’s a deal.” He backed the Wrangler up and pulled down the road, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

Chapter Two

The air in the school gymnasium stifled Isabella’s lungs, and she silently prayed for the moment she could shuck her heavy polyester graduation robe and pull her hair up off her neck. She fanned her face with her hand and listened to her father proudly praise her twin brother.

Emotions clashed in her chest like two freight trains.

Thank God, high school is over.

Oh, God. High school is over.

Isabella felt a firm hand on her shoulder, and knew it was Luke before she ever turned. Jumping up on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. He returned the embrace and held her against him with one arm as he pumped Jack’s hand with the other.

Isabella’s mother kissed Luke’s cheek. Mama dabbed her face with a crocheted handkerchief and babbled in Spanish how proud she was of all of them–her three children. Isabella smiled, loving her mother for including Luke as part of the family. With her arms wrapped around his body, Isabella hugged him tightly and pressed her cheek to his chest. The smooth polyester robe whispered against his shirt. His laugh resounded against her cheek as he pulled her closer.

“Can you get free? There’s someone I want you to meet,” he whispered close to her ear.

An electric shiver coursed through her when his breath brushed her cheek, and she nodded. She told her parents good-bye and followed Luke through the crowd, holding firmly to his hand.

They moved through the crowd until Isabella saw Frank and Cheralynn Grossman. Frank looked highly put out that he even had to be there, and Cheralynn acted like a frightened bird ready to take flight. A man stood near by, a smile on his face as wide as Oklahoma itself. It didn’t take much for Isabella to figure out who he was. In this man, Isabella saw where Luke got his size and looks.

Hank Mitchell easily stood over six feet tall. His shoulders were broad, and she nearly gasped when she saw the size of his upper arms beneath his short sleeves. Only slight peppering at his temples took away from his jet-black hair, and his features were rugged and earthy. She stole a glance at Luke and realized just how much father and son looked alike. They shared so many features, even the same icy blue eyes.

“Hello, Isabella,” said Luke’s mother in a cold tone when they reached them. Her face was a mask of calm.

“Mr. Grossman. Mrs. Grossman,” Isabella said in greeting. She tried to ignore the cold look in their eyes. Luke’s mother and stepfather always made her uncomfortable. In six years, she never figured out why they didn’t like her.

“Dad, I want you to meet Isabella McNeil,” Luke said to the big man. “Isabella, this is my father, Hank Mitchell.”

Luke’s father took Isabella’s small hand between his two large, calloused ones and held it in a warm welcome, immediately putting Isabella at ease. His tanned skin gave him a look of wisdom, and the laugh lines at the edges of his eyes made him simply endearing.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Isabella. I was expecting to meet an angel, the way my son speaks of you.”

The mellow way he spoke, with a slow northeastern accent, made Isabella blush. But his compliment wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

“Luke told me so much about you, and your home, I feel I know you already,” she told him earnestly. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Luke didn’t tell me you were going to be here.”

“Well, I didn’t rightly know I would be until just a few days ago. Then I figured he’d like the surprise.” His large hand embraced Luke’s shoulder.

Luke looked happier than she had seen in months, and she knew it had to be his father’s presence. Mr. Mitchell had never been to Oklahoma, mostly because he and Cheralynn didn’t get along. Things hadn’t been good between Luke’s parents since well before they were actually divorced. Cheralynn made it quite clear when they left the East Coast she felt it wasn’t in Luke’s best interest to see his father. Luke disagreed, and made contact on his own. He loved his father, and Isabella saw they were cut from the same cloth. Luke didn’t look or act like his mother, and now Isabella understood why. It just wasn’t in him.

He smiled down at her and her heart swelled. It was good to see him so happy.

“And I’ll be seeing him off in the morning, too,” Hank added.

Panic and sadness replaced her happiness in a violent wave. Isabella tried so hard to shove back the realization he would be gone this time tomorrow, but his father’s words slapped it back in her face. She felt Luke’s arm tighten around her. Reluctantly, she looked up at him.

“What time do you have to get on the bus in the morning?” she managed to whisper past the lump in her throat.

“Ten.”

“Now, I understand you have plans, so I’m not gonna hold you up,” Luke’s father said. “You two go on and have fun. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Luke nodded, and they moved away.

“Just stay out of trouble. I don’t want no call at three in the morning saying you’ve been arrested,” Frank Grossman called after them.

Luke’s body tensed and his step quickened away from them.

“I love your dad,” Isabella told him as soon as they left the large gymnasium.

“I wish you had met him sooner.”

Isabella sighed. “So, what are our plans for the evening? Are you ready to tell me yet? The party? Hang out with the guys? What?”

She turned back to him when they reached his Jeep. He was close and she brought her chin up and met his stare, intense and unwavering. Her heart leapt against her chest and her pulse quickened. Isabella tried to act unaffected, but his nearness was almost overwhelming.

“Well, I’m planning on making a token appearance at the party. Just so we’re not accused of being anti-social.” He spoke slowly, and Isabella chuckled at his joke. “Then it’s just you and me for the rest of the night.”

Isabella’s breath caught when his knuckle ran gently across her jaw. His eyes held hers. He still held her hand, and moved a whisper closer. Luke looked down at her for an eternity’s moment before he moved away and started around the front of the vehicle. She immediately felt an intense loss, and wanted to reach out to bring him back.

“No more specifics than that?”

He laughed as he climbed in and turned the key. “You’re going to spoil the surprise.”

Her pulse pounded in her throat. Isabella didn’t understand why she felt this way. Luke’s touch and nearness created a new kind of reaction in her over the last few months. His touch made her heart pound, and sometimes his closeness was enough to make her skin tingle. It grew stronger each day.

It has to be anxiety about him leaving. That had to be all it was.

She tried to convince herself, but her heart beat out a different story. It was only a week ago she found out. So, why had this been growing for months?

“Are we going to stare at each other all night?”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe we’ll just go bowling.”

*****

Isabella watched as Luke worked his way through the crowd. He tried to get back to the futon she sat on, weaving through the partygoers without spilling their sodas. Next to her sat Christine, Damian and Jack.

“Here, guys,” he shouted over the loud. “Grab what’s yours. The diet is the one closest to you, Isabella.”

They took the sticky plastic cups from him, and Luke sank onto the floor at Isabella’s feet, his long legs extended straight with his ankles crossed.

“So, are we having fun yet, or what?” Luke asked.

“No, not yet. But y’all will tell me when we do, right? I hate missing out,” Christine said sarcastically.

“It’s only nine o’clock. Most parties don’t get started until at least eleven,” Damian said and lifted his cup to his lips.

Erin and Scott wormed their way through the crowd towards them. Some kids attempted to dance to the heavy bass beat of the music, and Erin scowled when one of their classmates bumped her hip. Scott plopped down on a chair adjacent to the futon, and Erin sat on the arm.

“So, anything going on in here? We just did the grand tour of the back yard, and it was pretty pathetically boring,” Erin shouted.

“Why are we wasting our time here?” Brian asked.

“Because it’s graduation night. Eventually that reality will sink in and the fun level will come up a few notches. Trust me,” Christine informed him. “So drink your flat soda before it gets any warmer.”

For Isabella, another realization slowly set in. It was nine o’clock now. In just over twelve hours, Luke would get on a bus and head for parts unknown. She looked down to see Luke watching her, and tried to smile.

He hooked his hand on the inside of her bare knee. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She flipped her hand. “Yeah, fine.” He raised a single eyebrow and she rolled her eyes, knowing he saw right through her. “Just trying to ignore the inevitable.”

“Soon. We’ll leave soon, okay?” he said, squeezing her knee with his strong fingers.

“They look like a bunch of salmon trying to swim upstream,” Christine commented, motioning out towards the gyrating group of kids on the floor. She used her elbow to nudge Isabella out of Luke’s hypnotic gaze. “Maybe if we hosed ‘em down, they’d stop flopping.”

The crowd danced in unison, moving from one foot to the other. Each of them moved the same way, with only the slightest variation from person to person. Once in a while, there was a more sporadic, clumsy move when someone tried to be different.

“The two of you should show them how to really dance,” Damian said and motioned between Luke and Isabella.

Isabella shook her head in protest. Her heart wasn’t in the mood for a big dance production right now. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on,” Scott urged. “It might get this party going.”

“Yeah, come on guys. Kick this party up a few notches. These hicks wouldn’t know how to dance right if their lives depended on it.” Christine shook her hips and winked. “Show them how it’s really done.”

She started to say no once again, but Luke stopped her.

“I’m willing if you are. But it’s up to you.”

Once again, his eyes held hers much longer than usual. A warm, languorous feeling flowed over her, and pooled in her middle. She couldn’t speak, pulled into his icy blue eyes. He stood and held his hand out, offering it to her. She slipped her fingers into his warm palm.

“Dance with me, Bella.” His voice was a husky whisper that tugged her body and stopped her heart.

Luke walked her out a few feet onto the dance floor, and left her there as he went over to the guy running the stereo equipment. He leaned over, said something, and the pseudo-DJ nodded. As the current song ended, replaced by the soft strumming of a guitar. Bad Company was Isabella’s favorite band, even though most of her classmates thought they were ‘ancient’, and their ballad Feel like Makin’ Love filled the room. The couples on the floor embraced as the song began. Luke reached her and took her hand.

The lyrics pounded through the huge speakers as she wrapped her arms around his neck and his large hands held her sides. They began the song just like everyone else on the floor, swaying slowly to the music. But as each new measure played, they moved more fluidly and rhythmically. Isabella matched the movement of Luke’s hips with her own. With each downbeat, their bodies moved more seductively, the bend of their knees deeper and the space between their bodies smaller. Luke’s hand spanned the small of her back. He supported her as she arched and leaned back in a semi-dip.

They performed a captivating body-to-body ballet, as the beat grew stronger and faster. Isabella let herself get lost in the dance and ignored that everyone stopped to watch. They moved with abandonment in a self-designed combination of Salsa and plain old ‘down and dirty’ dancing.

The hard beat passed into a sweet, smooth musical interval. Luke took her hand and spun her, pressing the wall of his chest against her spine. Her heart beat faster than it should. Isabella tried to focus on the dance, but the sensation Luke’s body against her took over her mind.

She let her head fall back against his shoulder, and laced her hand back behind his neck, her fingers teasing his hair. Luke slid his fingertips up her bare leg. He caught the edge of her skirt with his curled fingertips and drew it slightly up her thigh. Isabella tried desperately to ignore the butterflies that took flight in her stomach, and focused on Luke’s breathing. But it was quick and short and did nothing to calm her racing pulse.

His hand flattened on her stomach and pressed her more firmly against him. Their bodies swayed in a purely carnal bump and grind, hips and torsos moving as a single unit in an erotic cadence.

He twisted her around again, so they faced each other, and pulled her against him with a gentle jerk. Isabella’s full length pressed against Luke, and she let her body become limp. Luke’s hand grasped the back of her knee and pulled it upward, even with his own hip. She put her full faith in Luke and let her spine slowly bend backwards. The entire crowd cheered as Isabella arched her body nearly double and her hands rested on the floor. Luke’s single hand supported her entire weight, and he slowly brought her back up against him.

Isabella tried to focus as the song moved to its end, but she was painfully aware of Luke’s denim-clad leg between her bare thighs. Her skin tingled and she floated.

Never before had she gotten so lost in the music and the dance. Never before had Luke been this bold in the way he held and touched her. She and Luke danced many times before, but never quite like this. Yet it felt so natural, she finally gave into the sensation and let her body take over.

As the song thundered through its final chorus, Isabella leaned into her partner and let her forehead drop against his shoulder. Her body was molten liquid and she closed her eyes, giving in completely to his embrace. Through the loud din of the song, she heard Luke sing close to her ear. Chills raced down her spine.

“I feel like making love to you….”

Her breath refused to slow, and her insides trembled.

Their motion slowed to just the gentle sway of their hips as the song faded away. Isabella again laced her arms around Luke’s neck and he softly sang the last few lines, his breath whispering against her ear. She clung to him, fighting to regain her composure. Her legs were weak and shaky, and her breasts felt heavy, straining against the buttons of her dress.

The room exploded in clapping and cheers as the song ended. A fast, heart-pounding song began, and the floor erupted in dance once again. Luke loosened his hold on her and she stepped back. Isabella looked up at him and held her breath. There was a glimmer in his eyes and he smiled, the deep dimples in his cheeks showing through.

“Bella,” he began, but Christine interrupted as she ran up to them, shock on her face.

“Oh, my God,” she screamed. “I have never, ever, seen dancing like that!”

“Half the class got hot just watching you,” Damian said behind her.

“Don’t be so perverted,” Isabella exclaimed, slapping his arm in mock punishment.

“Hell, wasn’t that the point?” he said in his own defense.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Luke mumbled gruffly and walked away.

Isabella watched him go, and a smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. As he disappeared into the crowd, she felt a tingling in her breasts and crossed her arms over them. Her distended nipples made themselves more than apparent against the white eyelet, and her cheeks flushed hot.

“Hey, are you okay?” Erin asked, nudging Isabella. “Hello. Are you home?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Fine. Just catching my breath.”

Luke came back with the drinks as the current song ended, and a love ballad began. Instead of handing her one of the cups, he set them down on an end table and grasped her elbow. “Come on. This is a slower one. Let’s dance again.”

His arms encircled her firmly, and he closed the gap between their bodies. She gave in to the embrace willingly, and rested her head against his chest. Isabella’s eyes fluttered shut, and she sank into the thrilling comfort of his hold. His lips brushed her cheek near her ear, and his fingertips stroked the back of her neck. She fought the shiver she felt when he spoke.

“I’m amazed every time I see you dance, Bella.”

“I don’t do it alone. I’ve got a great partner.”

She felt him shake his head. “No way. I’m just along for the ride.”

They fell quiet again for several bars of the song. The rhythmic tempo of Luke’s heartbeat beneath her cheek hypnotized her, yet she was almost painfully aware of how he held her. His right hand held her left, and his thumb traced an amative pattern on her palm. The simple action sent shivers down her spine and made her skin tingle. His other arm encircled her waist and his fingers firmly held her hip to keep her close. She was confused about all the things going through her mind, but knew it certainly didn’t feel like her best friend was holding her like this.

Was this the same Luke she hunted bullfrogs with? The same Luke who taught her to hit a softball so she wouldn’t be teased in gym class anymore? Yes, he was all that. But suddenly he was so much more.

She sighed deeply. Beneath her cheek, she heard the deep rumble of Luke’s laughter.

“What was that big sigh for?” he asked.

“Nothing in particular,” she lied. “You’ve been quiet.”

He chuckled again. “I’m sorry. Did you want to carry on a conversation while we danced?”

She smiled at his gentle teasing and shook her head. “When are we going to leave?”

“Are you ready to go now?”

Isabella held her breath. Part of her desperately wanted to get away from the noise and chaos of the party and spend some time alone with Luke. Yet, for the first time since they met, she was almost afraid to be alone with him. What would happen to these tumbling, tingling sensations when no one else was around? What an odd sensation: to feel panic and euphoria at the same time.

She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. His smile made her heart skip. “I’m ready when you are.”

He looked away to spot the others. They stood just where they left them. She followed his eyes. At the moment, they were being ignored. “Do you want to tell them we’re going?”

Luke shook his head. “No. They’d just want to know why and where we were going, and want to come.” He looked down at her again. “I don’t want the extra company.”

She was unable to speak against the thick emotion blocking her throat. Her only response was an affirmative nod. As inconspicuously as possible, Luke moved her through the crowd. They reached the far corner of the room near the patio door. Luke winked at her and glanced around suspiciously. Isabella giggled, and the two of them disappeared through the door.

*****

Allison Brodhi harrumphed and crossed her arms over her tissue-enhanced breasts. She elbowed her big brother and motioned to the departing duo. Deacon Brodhi took a long swig of his Jack Daniels-laced Coke and scowled.

“She’s either really dumb or insane. She can’t honestly believe she’s fooling anyone. They’re screwing each other. No one dances like that if they’re not doing each other on the side,” Allison whined.

Deacon shifted against the growing pressure in his groin. Watching Isabella McNeil dance like that was better than any porn flick he and his buddies ever rented. For three years, he watched her and her hot little Latin body. What he wouldn’t give to have her be with him like that. To have her willingly in his arms.

“I’d bet she’s one hot tamale between the sheets. A woman can’t move like that unless she knows how to use the merchandise.”

“Little slut.”

“Didn’t you say Mitchell was leaving for boot camp?” he asked.

Allison nodded. “Actually, I think he’s leaving tomorrow.”

He took another drink. This might be the opportunity he’d waited for since he was a senior in high school, and noticed Isabella as a very well developed freshman. Without the shadow of Luke Mitchell hanging over his head, he might just have a chance with her. For now he would bide his time and let the opportunity make itself.

“I have a feeling it won’t be long before Miss Isabella is going to find herself lonely and hurting for a real man.”

“Uh, gag.” Allison shook her head and walked away.

Chapter Three

“Are you sure your Jeep will be okay here?” Bella asked as they walked away from where he parked it on the side of the road.

Luke watched her as she looked back. He smiled at her concern over the old, beat-up vehicle. Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the tree line. “Everyone is back in town partying tonight. No one will bother it.”

He led her through the trees. The silver illumination from the moon shed the only light on their path. Luke moved confidently, remembering the undergrowth from earlier in the day. Careful not to release any branches until she was clear, he made a path. When she stumbled, he caught her, pulling her against his side until she regained her footing

“Where are we going?” she asked in a whisper.

Luke smiled. Only Bella would feel the need to whisper in the middle of the night, with no one around but him. “The closest place I could find to my father’s forest.”

“So, we’re going to walk around in the woods all night?”

He pushed aside one last bunch of branches. “No, just to here.”

Bathed in moonlight, just as he imagined it would be, was a small clearing in the trees no wider than twenty feet.

It was absolutely perfect. The partial sphere of the moon cast a silver shadow on each leaf and branch. An ethereal glow covered everything. The black night sky was clear enough to see each starry point of light.

He had dropped off a cooler of soda and radio earlier in the day. A tartan-plaid blanket was spread on the mossy floor, and another sat rolled up against a log.

“I wanted to get away from it all tonight, and I figured this was as far away as we could get without leaving the county.”

Bella stepped into the clearing, and bent to slip off her sandals. With a heavy sigh, she wiggled her toes in the cool moss carpet. She walked to the edge of the blanket and turned back to him.

“This is wonderful,” she whispered. “Luke, this is wonderful.”

Her voice drew him forward, and he saw tears sparkling in her eyes, threatening to fall. He reached out and brushed the tear away, without hesitation.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head slowly. “Nothing. You just know how to find that sentimental fool I keep hidden, and drag her kicking and screaming into the open.”

Luke chuckled. “That’s because I’m the only one who knows she’s there.”

She ran her palm up and down his arm. He felt a jerk around his gut when she pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. “Don’t you dare tell anyone, either. I have my reputation to watch out for.”

“Don’t worry. It’s our secret.”

Her gaze came back up to him, and her body shuddered when she took in a breath. Luke’s insides fought a battle he didn’t know if he could win. Clenched fingers itched to touch her hair and his arms ached to hold her. His body throbbed and pulsed with the need to be as close to her as possible. But his mind screamed the reality of how wrong it would be.

Bella never gave any sign she would return the feelings that kept him up at night and had him taking ice cold showers every time he thought of her. If he were to give in and confess how much he wanted her, he could lose her. Having her friendship, and denying how much he loved her, was worth not taking the risk of losing her all together.

He clenched his fists and shoved them deep into his pockets. It was the only way to keep from touching her. He knew if he weren’t leaving for BT, he wouldn’t make it through the summer without confessing. Maybe this decision was the best for more reasons than just paying for college.

“You are such a wonderful friend, Luke,” Bella said, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I love everyone, but I’m not sure they would think of doing something like this for me. You’re always doing things like this. I mean, you’re leaving and I should be the one doing something special for you.”

“Just being with me tonight is special enough.”

Her eyes came up to meet his and her fingers drummed against the base of her throat. Almost indiscernibly, she leaned towards him. But then she looked down and stepped back. With a burning in his chest, Luke realized he held his breath, and let it out slowly.

Bella sat down on the blanket, lowering herself and pulling her knees to her chin in one graceful move. Her ankles crossed and she circled her legs with her arms. Luke knew she had no idea what a glorious view of her legs she gave him.

Luke moved quickly to the cooler and forced himself to stop staring. “Um, I have pop and sandwiches. Do you want anything?” His insides bounced like Mexican jumping beans. He turned on the small radio in the middle of a rock ballad.

“Not right now.”

Luke sat down on the blanket, unable to avoid the closeness any longer. Clenching his jaw against the blood pounding in his temples, he reclined back and rested his head on his folded hands. The effort of looking unaffected by her gave him a headache.

“So, what do you want to do?” she asked.

“Anything. Nothing. Whatever you want.”

His heart skipped, and then thundered, when she turned and curled her body against his. Her breasts pressed against his side and she laid her cheek against his chest. She snuggled against him and her fingertips toyed with one of his buttons.

“I like your dad,” she told him.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “He likes you, too. I wish you met him before now.”

Bella sat up enough to look down at him. “You have his eyes. I always thought you didn’t look a lick like your mom.”

Luke chuckled. “I think she resented it, too.”

She cuddled against him again. “What happened between your mom and dad?”

Luke shrugged. “I think the divorce papers said ‘irreconcilable differences’. If you hear Mom tell it, she slams Dad seven ways to Sunday. Dad’s more matter-of-fact about it. She didn’t want to live on a mountain in Maine. When he told her he wanted his own business, I think she dreamed of something grander. She left after two years, and took me with her.”

“She was crazy to leave. I would’ve loved it.”

The gentle touch of her fingers on his chest made his breath slow and cautious. He tried to think of something other than her, but her scent–gardenia and ivory soap–assaulted his senses and her contact blurred out all else.

She sighed heavily. “Tell me about it.”

“I’ve told you so often, I think you should be able to tell me by now,” he kidded.

“Please?”

Luke closed his eyes and pulled her closer, ignoring the warnings in his mind. He took a deep breath. “When you stand at the top of the hill, and look down into the valley, the grass is like a rainbow. Hundreds of different wildflowers blow in the wind. You can smell honeysuckle, lily of the valley, clover, buttercups, and lilac. All mixed with the pine pitch and leaf mulch.

“The valley is surrounded on all sides by trees. Most are pine or spruce, but every once in awhile the white trunk of a birch peeks out. Beyond the treetops are the peaks of two huge, purple mountains.

“Birds call to each other just over the roar of the river behind you. The breeze hits your face, and it’s cool and fresh. Not dry and dusty. It’s like feeling the color green on your skin.”

Luke ran his fingers up and down the bare flesh of Bella’s arm, and pulled her closer with the other. He pressed his cheek against her hair and slowly inhaled. She was an intoxicating drug and he couldn’t get enough.

Bella pushed up again, and Luke saw her eyes shining in the moonlight. “I’m glad your parents divorced.”

He grinned. “Oh? Why?”

“Because if they hadn’t, your mother wouldn’t have moved to Oklahoma. And I wouldn’t know you.”

A pleasant warmth wrapped around Luke’s heart, and he smiled. “Then I guess I’m glad, too.”

Bella’s eyes held his, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something. Then her eyes darted away, and she jumped up. She hurried to the cooler, and opened it.

“What kind of pop did you bring?” she asked, her voice hurried and shaky.

Luke stood and walked to her. “Cola and orange.”

Bella sat back on her heels. He watched as she fumbled with the tab on the top of a can. She avoided looking up at him. Crouching down beside her, he took the can and popped it open. Bella reached for it, and he noticed her hand shook.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Again, she jumped up and went back to the blanket. With her back to him, she stood near the edge. He rose, but made no move towards her.

“Bella, what’s wrong?” he urged. “Do you want to go home?”

She shook her head adamantly, and spun back to look up at him. “No. Going home is the last thing I want to do.” She sighed a shaky breath. “I don’t think I ever want to leave this place.”

Luke’s heart caught when their eyes met. A silence fell over the clearing, and everything disappeared but Bella. He didn’t realize he reached for her until his fingers brushed her cheek. She covered his hand with her own, and turned into his palm. Her lips pressed on his flesh and sparks shot up his arm. Air sucked from his lungs. Somehow, he managed to whisper her name.

“Am I your best friend?” she asked, her black eyes not leaving his.

Luke swallowed hard, his throat dry. “You know you are.”

Bella leaned forward. Her body barely brushed against his. Slender fingers tightened around his hand. He watched the pulse at the base of her throat quicken, his eyes drawn to it. She moistened her lips and took a shallow breath as her body shuddered.

“Luke? Will I ever be more than your best friend?”

Luke’s body seized, and he fought to pull air into collapsed lungs. Blood pounded in his ears. Did he understand her right? Was she asking him the same question he asked himself for months? He swallowed hard against the dry desert in his throat.

“You already are.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Luke felt something release around his heart, and he smiled, too. Bella touched his cheek. Her fingers traced his jaw and down his throat to the open collar of his shirt.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Luke held her delicate face between his hands. The calloused pads of his thumbs ran across her mouth. He felt an elated laugh build in his chest, and tilted his face to the sky. When he looked down at her again, she smiled.

The first kiss was hesitant, their lips barely a whisper against each other. Her breath caught and fire surged through him. Unable to contain the need, he covered her lips and savored the taste. Her soft moan reverberated against his mouth and he clutched at her in desperation.

She returned the growing fervor of their kiss with equal enthusiasm, her body pliant and warm against his. Their tongues connected in exploration, and the circuit was complete. An electric rush surged in his veins and charged his desire.

With intense effort, he broke the connection and looked down at her. Her eyes darted over his face, and her breasts pressed against him when she inhaled. His eyes shifted to her lips, and his fingers pressed back into her hair.

“Incredible,” he said in a husky whisper. “Bella.” He couldn’t find anything else to say.

Bella laughed, and leaned into him, her arms wrapping around him. She hushed him with pursed lips. “Don’t say anything. Just do it again.”

With gentle care, he embraced her and lifted her tiny body off the ground. Luke eased them both down onto the blanket and stretched his body out beside her. She pulled him down to her, initiating a kiss that shook Luke to his boots. Longing and need took over, and he covered her throat with kisses and nips. Bella’s fingers worked through his hair, her hands gently urging him down her neck.

He pushed away to look down at her. Her lips puffed from their kisses, and her eyes shined brightly in the moonlight. Luke held her gaze as his fingers worked the tiny buttons of her dress.

“Bella, I want you to know this wasn’t my plan. I didn’t bring you out here for this.”

She nodded. “I know.” Her words came out husky and low. “But I think I was wishing you did.” A grin pulled at her lips.

“For the love of God,” he muttered, and pressed his lips against hers once more.

A fever spread through his body, and a hard ache filled him. Instinct and passion took over as he shifted over her, his hips nestling against hers. For the moment, nothing mattered but feeling Bella, touching Bella, and kissing Bella.

They moved together as fluently and fluidly as when they danced. She responded to him, and seemed to predict how he wanted and needed her touch. The intoxicating awareness of Bella blocked out all reason and conscience. His mind split. The glorious sensation of her skin beneath his palm exploded in his brain as his hand moved up her thigh. His ears heard her ragged breath and hoarse whispers. Bella’s body arched beneath him.

Her graceful hands caressed his bare chest. Thunderbolts surged in his brain. With a jolt, Luke came back to reality and pushed away from her. Her fingers dug into his arm. He looked down at her, and fought to steady his breathing.

Bella’s flared skirt bunched above the top of her dainty panties. The white lace barely covered any part of her flat stomach, the fabric being little more than a swatch. The row of buttons on her dress was unfastened and revealed her lace-covered breasts. Her body shuddered with quivering, ragged breaths. His own shirt was unbuttoned and pushed down off his shoulders. The cool night air sent a chill over his exposed flesh. Stunned, he realized the top button of his denims was open.

Isabella drew up her leg, affording him an arousing view of her calf and thigh. With slow care, he ran his fingertip up her leg to the edge of her panties.

“I never imagined how good you would feel. I dreamed about you. I fantasized how incredible it would be. But it was never this good.”

Her hand moved up his arm. Nails grazed his skin and fingers wrapped behind his neck. With gentle pressure, she urged him back down to her.

“Then don’t stop,” she whispered. Her dark eyes searched his face. “God, Luke, I want you to touch me.”

Luke engulfed her breast with his large hand and kneaded it softly. Bella moaned. In an act of instinct, he ran his lips over the satin fabric covering the soft mound. Every touch and every kiss from Isabella sent him closer to a complete loss of control. Her hands slid down his back to his waist. He sucked in his breath when her fingers found the front of his jeans. The opening of his zipper released the intense pressure.

Luke grabbed her wrist before she moved further. He dropped his head to her shoulder, resting it there as he took a long, shaky breath.

“Bella, I can’t let this happen.”

Her body stiffened beneath him. He pulled back to look at her, and she turned her head away. Luke touched her cheek, but she wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry, Bella. I let this go too far.”

“Don’t,” she mumbled. “Please, just don’t say anything.”

“Bella, look at me. What’s wrong?”

Bella pressed her heels into the blanket and tried to move from beneath him. “Let me up.”

He gently restrained her until she conceded to lie back on the blanket. She sighed heavily. Luke shifted enough to relieve some of his weight, but didn’t move away.

“Just let me up, Luke. I’m embarrassed enough.”

“Embarrassed? Why?”

Bella tugged at the front of her dress, and yanked the hem down as far as their position would allow. With a flip of her hand, she silently indicated their stage of semi-undress. She looked away again and covered her cheek with her hand. A nervous giggle escaped her.

“I don’t know what’s worse. The fact it went this far, or that we stopped.”

Luke smiled, and kissed her cheek. “Bella, I don’t think either of us realized how powerful this would be. How intense. I dreamed of a night like this, but could never have imagined feeling like this.”

“I’ve dreamed of it, but I never would’ve admitted it to anyone. I never thought I’d be anything but your friend.”

Luke took her hand and pressed his lips into her palm. Her flesh felt hot against his mouth. “Tonight, when we danced, all I could think about was how mind-blowing it would be to make love to you.” Bella’s eyes grew wider and he felt her snatch her breath. “Now, being so close to doing just that, I’m trying to decide what’s stopping me.”

“You are?”

Luke nodded. “But I know what it is.”

“You do?”

He took her hand and pressed her palm against his chest over his erratically pounding heart. Her touch sent a small spasm through him. She stared at their joined hands.

“Do you feel that, Bella?” She nodded in answer. “Not just anyone could do this to me. Only you.”

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Why did you stop?”

“Bella, you deserve better than this. Better than me.”

Bella shook her head. “No.”

“Bella, listen to me. I can’t do anything now about leaving. And even if this happened months ago, I would still have to go.” He saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. “Now, let me finish. I’m going because this is the best opportunity I have. I want to be more than a dirt farmer in Oklahoma.”

“You will.”

“Yes, I will. I’m going to do this so I can come back and take you out of Indian Prairie. Just like I’ve always promised.”

Bella snuggled into him and pressed her face into the crook of his arm. Luke brushed back her hair and tucked it behind her ear. He held her until his heartbeat returned to a normal pace. With his fingertip, he gently urged her to look at him.

“Bella.” He waited until her eyes met his. “Bella, I stopped tonight because I respect you too much. I love you too much to make love to you on the ground.” Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Bella smiled, and her fingers brushed his cheek. “I was in denial about how you made me feel. I was stupid not to figure it out before now.”

Luke’s blood heated again when her palm ran down his chest. She fingered the contours of his muscles. The shell pink tips of her nails sparked on his skin. Chills and bolts of fire stormed though him simultaneously.

“Luke, I love you, too,” she whispered.

Luke laced his fingers with hers, and slowly slid their clasped hands upward. Shifting his weight, he pressed her back onto the blanket and covered her mouth with his own. All common sense escaped him as her kiss filled his senses. Her body arched and moved against him, pushing his control to the limit.

“Please, Luke. Make love to me tonight,” she whispered against this throat.

Luke broke the kiss and buried his face into her hair. His breath was ragged and fast. “God, you don’t know how much I want to, Bella. You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to.”

“But,” she mumbled.

Luke shifted his weight and pushed up to see her face. “But not in the middle of the woods. Not like this. I want our first time together to be special and wonderful. Something you will never forget.”

“It would be special.”

“It’s too important to rush.” Luke chuckled quietly. “I really didn’t plan on tonight turning out this way. I’m not prepared.”

Bella nodded. “I understand.”

Luke smoothed her hair. “I hope so. But just think about how wonderful it will be when I come home. The first time is going to be perfect. No rushing. No worrying about getting home before curfew. I’m going to make love to you all night long.”

Isabella wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. “Can you just hold me for the rest of the night?”

Luke was more than willing to comply.

*****

Morning came too quickly, and they stood at the canopied boarding area of the Greyhound terminal. After a brief stop at Luke’s house for his things, and to meet his parents and stepfather, they headed directly to the station. The remaining circle of their friends waited there to see him off.

Isabella held tightly to Luke’s hand. Somehow, she hoped if she didn’t let go, he wouldn’t leave. She listened only slightly as he confirmed his bus number and arrival time in North Carolina. The buses lined up outside, and her throat tightened. The thought of her precious Luke getting on one of them, behind their dark tinted windows, nearly broke her heart.

They finished at the ticket counter, and turned to head towards the departure terminal. Her body turned to lead as they stepped out of the air-conditioned building and into the dusty air beyond. The hot Oklahoma wind burned her eyes, but she walked against the force of an ocean. Isabella pulled back and called his name.

Luke looked to her. Their eyes connected and he stopped short. He turned to her brother, who stood near by, and dropped his duffle bag on the ground.

“Jack, buddy, could you take this for me? We’ll be there in two or three minutes.”

Three minutes? That’s all I have.

Jack smiled at her and squeezed her arm, before he picked up the bag. Isabella watched him walk away and join her friends. He said something to Christine, and she looked their way. She smiled weakly at them, but it didn’t make Isabella feel any better. Choking on her tears, Isabella looked up at Luke.

He gently placed his hands on her cheeks. Shivers raced up her spine when his fingertips caressed her neck and hair. Grasping his wrists, she tried to burn the sensation into her memory.

“It’s not forever,” he whispered, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. “Someday, this will feel like nothing at all. And when I come back, we will have all the time in the world.”

“It hurts,” she choked out, laying her hand on her chest. “I can’t breathe. I’m dying inside.”

“I know, baby, I know.” Luke pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

She tried not to cry. Isabella didn’t want him to remember her sobbing like a kid. But the ache was so terrible and overwhelming, she couldn’t fight the tears.

Luke looked down at her, his eyes heavy and dark. “Do you know how much I want to take your hand and run? I want to find a place for the two of us, and love you all night long.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He kissed her. In that kiss she felt love, desire and despair in one rocking moment. They broke the kiss, and Luke rested his forehead against hers. Desire and sadness overwhelmed her. How could she feel such radically different emotions at the same time? Her heart pounded against her chest.

Despite her heart’s desire for him to stay, she knew this was what he needed to do. All night long, he told her about his plans. He would fulfill his commitment to the Army, get his training, and come back for her. They would leave Indian Prairie together. Luke promised her, over and over again, they would be together.

“I’m not ready for this, not even close,” Isabella said against his shirt as he held her.

“I promise I’ll be back sooner than you think. I don’t know if I’m going to get back between Basic Training and my final assignment, but I will if possible. Either way, I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

Isabella nodded and clutched at the front of his shirt. “Okay. How long before I hear from you?”

“Soon. Just let me get there and get settled, and I will write. I’ll call as soon as I can. It won’t be more than two or three days.”

Isabella chuckled. “After last night, I don’t think your voice over the phone, or a piece of paper, will quite be enough.”

Luke laughed and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I know. I think I’m going to have more than a few restless nights thinking of you.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart, just as he had the night before. “Feel that? Just thinking of you does that to me.”

Isabella looked at him, no longer fighting the tears. She threw her arms around his neck and held on tight, memorizing the feel of his arms around her and the masculine, woodsy scent of his clothing.

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck. “Don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

“I won’t. Ever.” He released his hold, and together they walked to join those waiting for them.

Isabella watched him say good-bye to each in turn. He kissed his mother’s cheek, shook his stepfather’s hand, and embraced his father. Both Erin and Christine hugged him and kissing his cheek. Damian, Brian and Scott shook his hand and patted his back. With each, Isabella stood one step behind, holding his hand.

When he reached Jack, he took her brother’s hand and pulled him closer. “Take care of her for me, Jack buddy. This isn’t easy for either of us.”

“I’m glad the two of you finally wised up,” Jack said with a grin. “It’s about time.”

Luke released her hand and put his duffle bag in the cargo space of the bus. Isabella crossed her arms over her chest, trying to calm the panic raging inside. Her heart swelled and threatened to burst from her ribs. The overwhelming sadness she fought was nearly enough to strangle her.

It was a conflict of emotions. A huge part of her was undeniably happy they now admitted what had been there all along. But at the same time, she was angry at the incredible unfairness it should be now.

Luke turned back from the bus, and held his hand out to her. She stepped to him, and took it.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said again. “We’ll look back and think this is nothing.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Time to board, son,” said the bus driver from his perch.

Isabella threw her arms around him, and he pulled her close. His kiss was brief. She wasn’t sure if she could handle much more. Isabella choked on emotion when he released her, and took the first step onto the bus.

“Soon, I promise,” he told her. His husky whisper hinted at the raw emotion in his own heart.

His father stepped beside her, and put his arm around her shoulder. Exhausted by it all, she let her head drop against the big man’s side

“Don’t you worry. He’ll be back. Mitchells keep their promises,” Hank Mitchell told her.

A smile tugged at her lips. She looked up at Luke, and he smiled back. Without another word, he boarded the bus and disappeared behind the smoky gray glass.

Chapter Four

August 24

Sweet Bella:

Every letter I write makes me miss you more and more. It just reminds me that I’m here, and you’re not. This has been the longest summer of my life. Have I mentioned yet how much I love you?

The last few weeks have been hard. I’ve never been so tired in my life. But it feels good, too. That probably doesn’t make any sense. What’s been hard is being without you. For years, you’ve always been there for me. The most I’ve been without your smile is two weeks – when I’ve gone to see Dad. But you fill my dreams. I see you every night. It’s not the same, but knowing you’re going to be there when I come home, that’s enough for now.

I still don’t know when that will be. Camp is over this weekend. I’ll call as soon as I can afterward. I don’t know if you’ll get this letter before then, or not. I’ll get my assignment immediately after the ceremony, and when I call, I can tell you where I’m going.

I don’t have much time. I will call you as soon as I can. I miss you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Luke

Isabella read the letter one more time before she folded it. Carefully, she placed the crisp, thin paper back into the envelope. With the letter pressed to her breasts, she leaned her head back against the mirror behind her. The tiny dance studio thundered as her small stereo played Bad Company. The compact disc, and one song in particular, was nearly worn out from constant playing over the last two months.

The letter came on Thursday, and in the four days since, she read it at least a hundred times. Every time she started to doubt the reality of that magical night, another letter would come and renew her faith. Reading his letters brought back everything, almost as vividly as if he were there. When she closed her eyes, she felt his hands on her breasts and his lips on her mouth. Her heart fluttered and beat faster.

Isabella sucked in her breath at the erotic memory, and scolded herself for lingering on it. It only created a deep ache inside for him.

Luke graduated yesterday, and he would probably know today where he would be stationed. Isabella’s heart didn’t want to admit the possibilities. He could be stationed across the United States, or even worse, in a foreign country.

A soft knock at the door brought her out of her daydreams and musings. “Isabella?” Jack’s voice called through the door.

“Yes?”

Jack opened the door, a wide grin on his face and a phone in his hand. “There’s a call for you.”

Isabella’s heart skipped. “Is it Luke?”

Jack nodded. Isabella jumped to her feet, snatched the phone from her twin and brushed him out of the room with her hand. Taking a steadying breath, she put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

Isabella flushed at the sound of his wonderfully deep and mellow voice. But the loud din of other men in the background nearly drowned him out.

“I can barely hear you.”

“I know. The guys here are pretty loud. We all got our assignments today, and some of them are celebrating. But I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about you. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I got your last letter on Thursday. I’ve nearly worn it out reading it.” She clutched the phone and tried to imagine him on the other end. “I’m nervous every time I get one.”

“Why would you be nervous?”

“I guess I wasn’t quite convinced it all was real.”

She heard him laugh. “Oh, it was real. I’ve been reliving it every night in my very small, very lonely bed.” His voice grew husky, and it warmed her blood. “My only consolation is that you might be missing just as much sleep as I am.”

“I haven’t slept much at all.” She took a deep breath to fortify her nerves. “Where are you going? Is it Fort Sill, like you hoped?” Isabella crossed her fingers and laid her hand over her heart, praying she would hear good news.

“No. Not Sill.”

A lead ball dropped in Isabella’s stomach, and she blinked hot tears. It didn’t have to be bad news. Don’t let it be bad! “Please don’t tell me you’re going overseas.”

“No. But Bella, some things have changed.”

“What? What could’ve changed?”

“Baby, my recruit division commander is really pushing me to volunteer for Special Forces training–specifically the Rangers. It’s a huge honor, and a very difficult regiment to get into. Rangers are elite. But he thinks I can make it. They hardly ever recommend new recruits, so he must really think I can get in.”

“What does that mean?”

“I won’t be coming home as soon as I thought. I’m leaving for Fort Benning tomorrow. I’ll be there for the first phase of training. Then I’m going to Elgin Air Force Base in Florida. The Ranger training is several months long, if I make the cut. I won’t have any kind of leave until it’s all over.”

“Oh, God. You might as well be overseas.” The tears were harder to choke back, and she heard the quiver in her own voice. She didn’t want to be a whiney girlfriend, but it sounded like forever.

“Listen to me, baby. We will work this out. Nothing says you have to stay in Oklahoma now. I’ve been thinking about this the last few weeks. Bella, we need to talk about it.”

“Thirty seconds, soldier. Wrap it up!”

Isabella jumped at the booming voice. “Do you have to go?”

“I’m sorry, baby, I do. I’ll call you as soon as I can, and I’ll let you know when I can come home. Bella, I’ve got so much to tell you, to talk about.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His voice softened. “Let me give you the address I’m going to be at.”

Isabella quickly grabbed a pen and wrote the information on the envelope. “Okay, I’ve got it. Luke?”

“What?”

“Say it again for me?”

She heard him chuckle softly. “I love you, Bella.”

“Get off the phone, Mitchell, you hornball,” someone yelled.

Isabella laughed.

“You’re just a jealous son of a bitch,” Luke shot back, hearty laughter in his voice. “I’ve got a hot woman, and all you’ve got is your centerfold.”

A variety of retributions sounded back, and Isabella laughed again. She tried to imagine him, standing among these men who completed training with him, and how he would look. Isabella pictured him with buzzed hair, dressed in green and camouflage.

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he said back, his voice dropping lower. “And I do love you.”

“I’m going to write you this afternoon. I’ll send it to the new address.”

“Okay, I gotta go. I love you.”

Silence filled the room when the line disconnected. She left the studio in a daze and walked to the kitchen. Her brother and parents sat at the small dinette. She hung the phone back in its jack and took a small bottle of juice out of the fridge. Isabella jumped onto the counter, and crossed her leotard-clad ankles.

After drinking half the juice, she looked up to see three sets of eyes on her.

“What?”

“Well, how is he? What’s going on? He wouldn’t talk to me,” Jack said. “He was in too much of a rush to talk to you.”

“He says he’s good, and he got his orders today.”

“Where’re they sending him?”

“For now, Georgia. I guess one of his superiors wants him to volunteer for Ranger Training. He said it’s Special Forces. After Georgia, he’s going to Florida if he continues with the training.”

Lourdes McNeil stood and picked up the two men’s plates. “Oh, so far,” she said. “Why do they have to send him so far?”

“That’s what he signed up for, Lourdes. The military will control every aspect of his life from now on. They say go, and he’ll pack his bags. They say die, and he does. It’s not a good life, Isabella.” Charles McNeil took a long drink from his iced tea.

“He’s not staying in the military forever, Papa. Just long enough to help pay for school.”

“Did he explain what the Rangers are?”

Isabella hid the cringe at her father’s rough voice. “No, he just said they were elite. Tough to get into.”

“He was correct when he said elite. The Rangers are the front line. The Marines have the Recons, and the Navy has the Seals–the Army has Rangers. They’re the first to go in, and if needed, the first to die. I’m willing to bet he never leaves.”

“Papa, you were in the Army. I thought you, of anyone, would understand.”

“That’s right. I put my time in, but not by choice. I was drafted into Vietnam. I went over there. I followed their rules. I sank to my waist in mud and muck so thick and deep, you had no idea what was beneath you, or swimming beside you. Men who fought beside me my entire tour got blown away, four feet from me.”

“But Papa, this is different. There is no war. And Luke chose this.”

“If he becomes a Ranger, he will change. I knew men in Special Forces. They were cold, hard, and ruthless. They had to be. The Army was their life. I’m not trying to be cruel, but the sooner you face it, the better.”

Isabella hopped down. “I think it is cruel, Papa.”

“Charles, stop,” Lourdes scolded. “Usted sabe que Luke est un joven bueno.”

“I’m not putting Luke down, dear. He is a fine young man. I’ve always liked Luke, as Isabella’s friend. But I don’t want to see her get hurt. I just don’t see how to avoid it. It wasn’t a good idea to start a relationship as serious as she thinks it is just before he left.”

“Luke is not going to hurt me.”

Her father shook his head. “You need to start facing the possibility that he isn’t coming back.”

“I love Luke. And he loves me.”

“You have no idea what love is. You’re eighteen years old, for Christ’s sake.”

Isabella threw up her hands. “Eso no es justo. I know more about love than you think. Yo ya no soy un nino, Papa.”

“Don’t use that tone with me, Isabella. Life isn’t fair, get over it. And a girl who needs to say she’s not a child is only proving the point that she is.”

Isabella snapped her mouth shut and turned on her heels. She stormed out to her bedroom. Why her father was being so negative about Luke’s decision, she didn’t understand. He talked it all down, ever since he found out Luke enlisted. For two months, whenever the subject came up, he had something to say.

“It’s Jack,” her brother called as he knocked on her door.

“Come on in.”

He entered, and sat down on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry about Dad. He’s got a hair across his ass today.” Isabella shrugged. “Now that you’ve heard from lover boy, do you want to come to the party?”

She huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I’ll go. I certainly don’t want to stay here tonight. I need to write a letter, and then I’ll get ready to go.”

Jack stood and left, leaving her alone again. She went to her desk and found her favorite stationary. It didn’t take long to think about what she wanted to say, and soon she was done. She spritzed the paper with her body mist and tucked the letter into an envelope.

She met Jack downstairs an hour later. After a quick stop at a mailbox, they headed on to the party.

There had to be nearly two hundred people at the party. Everyone from high school seniors, to college seniors, was home for the weekend. The house and yard was packed full. Isabella and her brother could barely move through the crowd. It took them nearly half an hour to find the others, hidden in the corner of a downstairs room. Most of the group was gone, leaving Jack, Erin and Brian to keep Isabella company.

“My God, could they pack anyone else in here?” Isabella shouted when they joined the others.

“Can you believe this? I can’t even think,” Erin yelled back. “I thought you weren’t coming because Luke might call.”

“He did call.”

“Hey! How is he? I take it he survived?” Scott asked.

Isabella nodded. “He graduated from Basic yesterday. They’re sending him to Georgia now.”

“Oh, that sucks. Wasn’t he hoping to be assigned to the base in Lawton?” Erin asked.

Isabella nodded. “But at least he’s still in the United States and not Panama or something. He doesn’t know when he’ll come home.”

Erin hugged her, and Isabella was thankful for the physical comfort. “I’m sorry, honey. It must be tough.”

Over the next couple of hours, Isabella tried to keep a smile on her face. She wasn’t sad, but her thoughts drifted often to Luke. Did he lie in his bed and think of her, the way she thought of him? More than once, one of her friends had to draw her out of her musings and back into the conversation. She sipped slowly at the drinks her friends kept pushing into her hands, tasting the faint warmth of whatever alcohol used to spike the punch. A light fuzziness crept in behind her eyes, and she found herself giggling at the silliest things. Finally, some of the sadness began to slip away.

Brian, who joined them shortly after she and Jack arrived, took her hand as a slow song began to play. “Come on, Isabella. Let’s dance.”

She smiled at him, the warmth in his face making her feel better. Brian was a friend of few words, but what he said was worth hearing. Isabella took the hand he offered, and they moved into the mass of dancing people. With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder.

“How are you doing?” he asked as they swayed.

“Okay,” Isabella said, stumbling some on her tongue. She decided to avoid anything from the punch bowl the rest of the night. “I miss him.”

“I know he misses you.”

Isabella felt tears prick at her eyes, and sniffed loudly. Brian rubbed her back and kissed her forehead. “Don’t ever doubt Luke. I have never seen anyone love someone as much as he loves you.”

“Thank you,” was all she managed to say. Emotion welled in her throat at the simple words of encouragement.

Someone touched her arm. She looked up and saw Deacon Brodhi standing beside them. He smiled, a lopsided kind of arrogant grin, and turned to Brian.

“I’m cutting in,” he said. It wasn’t a request for permission, but a statement, yet his voice was smooth as silk.

Must be the politician in his blood.

Brian looked at her, and she nodded. Deacon was an arrogant SOB, and it didn’t help that he was the older brother to bitch-Allison, and overall Isabella could easily do without dancing with him. But giving up one dance was better than creating a scene on the dance floor. Brian stepped away, and Deacon pulled her against him. The song ended, and a new one began.

“I noticed you seemed down tonight, Izzy. How long has Mitchell been gone now?”

“Nine weeks, and I would prefer it if you didn’t call me Izzy,” she answered. “Please, can we not talk?”

“I’m sorry. Just trying to make conversation.”

His arms tightened around her, and she tried to make the space between them larger. Deacon Brodhi made her uncomfortable. He never really did anything offensive, but his self-confident persona was disarming. His hold loosened, and her defenses relaxed.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said near her ear. “I just sensed you weren’t yourself tonight. I was worried.”

She stepped back and looked at him. “Worried? Why would you be worried about me?”

“Why wouldn’t I worry, Isabella? You know I’ve had my eye on you for years now.”

“But you’ve known I wasn’t interested.” Isabella tried to sound gentle.

He smiled, and nodded. “I know. But knowing it doesn’t necessarily change the fact. You’re a beautiful woman, Isabella. The type of woman I would very much like to know better.”

“I’m with Luke, Deacon.”

“I know. But I’d like to be your friend, anyway.”

Isabella’s brows knit together as she looked at him. Deacon Brodhi was an attractive guy, with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He was tall and athletic, and were it not for his detestable lineage, he might actually be attractive. The few years' difference between him and her friends were apparent. He finished college this year, so he had four or five years on most of them.

“You look surprised.”

“I am,” she answered. “I’ve never seen this side of you before, Deacon.”

“What side is that?”

“A nice side.”

He shrugged one shoulder and pulled her a scant inch closer. “I bet there are sides of me you’ve never imagined.”

The song ended, and he released her without further argument. Puzzled by his change of personality, she went back to her friends. One of them handed her a drink, and forgetting her earlier resolve, she sipped from it, still thinking about the way Deacon acted.

“Hey, you okay?” Erin asked.

She nodded. “I’m fine. Deacon just caught me off guard.”

She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but something was definitely different. Deacon approached her at nearly every opportunity over the last couple of years, but each time he had seemed much more distant than tonight. He always gave the impression he didn’t care either way, if she said yes or no. But tonight, tonight he was almost a gentleman.

Almost.

The loud music gave her a headache, and the heavy cloud of cigarette smoke didn’t help. She told Erin she was going out for some fresh air, and headed for the back patio. After Isabella got beyond the worst of the mob, she took a deep breath of the cooler night air.

Standing just beyond the boundary of the backyard lights, she looked out into the prairie. The tall grass waved back and forth in the breeze, spreading out beyond her line of sight. Isabella glanced back quickly, and then stepped out into the darkness. She walked slowly, the tall grass brushing her legs. When the music faded to a muted thump, she stopped. With one last glance back, she felt comfortable with being able to see the lights from the party.

The stars were easier to see away from the house. When she looked up, the contrast in dark and bright was dazzling. With the oppressive sounds of the celebration almost silenced, she heard the soft chirping of bullfrogs in nearby wetlands, and the music of crickets singing to each other.

Isabella closed her eyes and listened. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. Could Luke’s mountain in Maine have such wonderfully peaceful sounds? She hated the oppressive heat of Oklahoma, and the overbearing sun. In this part of the country, the weather was your worst enemy. One day it might be nice and pleasant, and the next your house is gone–swept up in a twister. Drought conditions for weeks, then the rivers would flood over from torrential downpours. What was it like at the top of a mountain? Surrounded by trees, flowers, and life?

“Is everything all right, Izzy?”

Isabella jumped at Deacon Brodhi’s voice. She spun around and faced him. He stood five feet away with a red plastic cup in each hand. Isabella struggled to catch her breath.

“Are you all right?” he asked again.

Isabella nodded. “Yes. I–I just needed to get out of the smoke and noise for awhile.”

He nodded. “I saw you leave the backyard. It’s probably not a good idea to be out here all alone.”

He’d been watching her. Chills skittered over her arms, but she brushed them off. “I’m fine, really.”

Deacon stepped towards her. “I’d feel better if you let me stay with you until you go back.”

She didn’t argue, because she saw it would be pointless. Isabella turned away from him, and looked again into the night sky. He approached and stopped just behind her.

Deacon held out one of the cups. “I brought you a drink.”

Isabella leaned forward and sniffed at the liquid inside. All she smelled was fruit punch and sprite. But then again, she hadn’t smelled anything in the punch all night. “Did you get this from the punch bowl? You didn’t add any extra alcohol, did you?”

One corner of his mouth cocked up in a half grin. “I cannot tell a lie. There might be a splash or two of Absolut in there.”

Isabella stared at the cup, watching the moon reflect in the smooth surface. With a sigh and a shrug, she took the drink.

“Are you sure there’s just a splash?” she asked as the warmth spread further into her limbs.

Deacon pressed his lips together in an okay-maybe-I-underestimated-a little expression. Isabella shook her head and turned, taking several steps away from him before crossing her ankles and sinking down into the grass. The thought of returning to the loud, crowded and smoky party was just slightly less desirable than Deacon’s company right now. Being alone would be preferable, but she apparently wasn’t going to get that wish.

He sat down beside, the dry grass crackling beneath him. Isabella scooted away an extra inch or two, giving herself some space. The next sip of punch seemed to bypass her stomach all together and float right up to her head. She closed her eyes and tipped her chin back, turning her face to the starry sky.

“So, what are your plans now?” Deacon asked.

Isabella opened her eyes and tilted her head at the same time, her vision swimming for a moment until she could focus again on his face.

“For what?”

“It’s the end of the summer. Are you going away to school?”

She shook her head, the landscape shifting in slow motion. “Nope. Tulsa Community College for me.”

“That surprises me,” Deacon said, shifting in the grass to move closer. Isabella saw him do it, but didn’t think to move away this time. “Isn’t Jack going to law school in Chicago?”

“Yup,” she said, popping her lips.

Deacon stared at her. In her head, she was telling him all about her father’s announcement that only one of his kids could go away to school. And that his decision was for his son, Jack, to be the one. The meager remains of their college education funds would pay for partial tuition at the community college. But she realized that none of these words were actually coming out of her mouth. She blinked, trying to connect her thoughts with her quickly thickening tongue.

“So, you’re staying in Indian Prairie?” he asked, his voice not quite synchronized with his moving lips.

Just how much alcohol was in that punch?

She nodded. Or, at least she thought she nodded.

“Good. I’m coming back to work for my father’s office. He’s running for the Senate again. I don’t think I’d like Indian Prairie without you here.”

Her head was heavy, and she felt her body sway, unable to stop it. Deacon’s arm came around her and he moved closer so her temple rested on his shoulder.

“I like you very much, Isabella. Do you think there would ever be a chance you could feel something for me?”

I love Luke.

He spoke again, but the words didn’t quite seem to reach her brain. His lips moved as he laid her back onto the grass. His fingers stroked her cheek, but by then, she felt nothing at all.

Chapter Five

August 29

My Luke:

These letters haven’t gotten any easier to write. I thought they would, the more I wrote. But if anything, it’s harder. How can I put on paper everything going on in my heart? For years, you have always been a phone call away when I needed you. Or when I just wanted to be with you.

I dream about you every night. A few months ago, I never would have admitted it, but I’ve dreamed about you for years. But now the dreams are different. Do you know how? I think you probably do.

Come home to me soon. We’ll work it all out, no matter what you decide to do. Papa claims the Army will change you. Make you hard. He says you won’t be the same man when you come home. But nothing will take away the sweet, wonderful man you are. And that’s all that matters to me.

I will support you, no matter what. Say the word and I will be by your side. I can’t wait to see you again. To hold you, and to kiss you. But for now, just know I love you. And I always, always will.

Your Bella

Luke fell back onto his bunk. He put one arm behind his head and held the letter in front of him. The gentle scent of the paper drifted to him, and he put it to his nose with a smile. Gardenia with a slight hint of musk filled his senses. If he closed his eyes, she was next to him, almost within reach.

The rush of excitement when the company clerk called out ‘Mitchell’ at mail call was intense. Since opening the pastel pink envelope, his smile hadn’t dwindled. His cheeks ached, which just made him smile wider. Luke was the first in his barracks to get any mail after arriving in Georgia. The badgering and goading from the other men was relentless, but it didn’t touch his mood.

Laying the letter on his chest, Luke let her familiar scent fill his senses. Memories of warm, silky skin spread a blanket of heat over him. With a groan, he plucked the letter off his chest and sat up. Letting his mind linger too long on Bella only resulted in frustration and a deep ache in his groin. In a futile attempt to divert his thoughts, he picked up the small cedar box on his bed.

His thumb traced the latch before he released it. Taking great care, he folded the letter and put it inside the box with the other pastel-colored envelopes. Also inside the chest were a framed photograph and a small velvet pouch. His finger caught the silk rope on the sack, and he lifted it out. Putting the box aside, he emptied the contents of the pouch into his palm.

It wasn’t the modern idea of an engagement ring, but knowing Bella the way he did, he knew she would like it. She wasn’t one who felt the need for a gaudy, typical diamond ring. This dainty silver ring, set with a single blue sapphire framed by diamonds, was a family heirloom. And for that reason alone, she would love it. The next time he saw her he would place it on her finger and make it hers. He slipped the jewelry onto his pinkie, where it stopped just below his first knuckle.

“The top bunk taken?” asked a voice near him.

Luke looked up beyond the edge of the mattress above him. Standing near his footlocker was another soldier, duffle hanging off his shoulder. The man pushed back his cap and exposed a long scar running mid-forehead to the corner of his left eye. The scar was still very pink and defined.

In the last four days, soldiers from bases all over the country and abroad filtered into Fort Benning. With only three days left before Zero Week, the barracks would fill quickly.

Luke stood. He caught the rank marks on the man’s jacket. “No, Sergeant. Feel free.” The nametag read Barkowski.

Sergeant Barkowski extended his arm. “Name’s Brett. I just came in from Columbia.”

Luke accepted the offered hand. “Luke Mitchell.”

Brett nodded, and pointed at Luke’s chest. “Hey, I heard of you. Straight from BT, right?”

Luke was surprised to hear his name was known among the other Ranger trainees. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Pretty impressive. It’s not often someone straight out of BT gets into Ranger training. You OCR? Or ROTC?”

Luke shrugged. “No, sir.”

“Where’re you from, Mitchell?”

“Oklahoma.”

They traded some more details as Sergeant Barkowski pulled items from his duffle. Luke leaned his shoulder against the upper bunk, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“How long have you been in?” Luke asked.

“Seven years. Consider yourself a lucky man, Mitchell.”

Luke couldn’t say anything to that. The more he learned of the Rangers, and the more stories he got from the other men in his company, the more he realized he was one of few to get into the elite training program so quickly. He looked down as Brett continued to unpack.

The sunlight coming in across the room caught the facets of Bella’s ring. Moving his hand slightly as it rested on his other arm, the many angles of the gem sparkled brightly. It was hypnotic.

“Nice ring.” Luke looked up, and nodded. “For your girl?”

“Yeah. As soon as I see her again.”

Brett turned from the personal items strewn across his mattress. “How old are you, Mitchell?”

“Nineteen.”

He shook his head. “Damn! Are you in some kind of hurry? I’m willin’ to bet you came right out of high school, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You’ve taken on a whole lotta somethin’ real quick, soldier. You sure you wanna throw a woman into the mix?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

“High school sweetheart?”

Luke shrugged. “Kind of. She’s been my best friend for years. The ‘sweetheart’ part is more recent, I guess.”

Brett nodded. “Yeah? What’s her name?”

“Bella.”

“Bella? That’s interesting.”

“Well, Isabella,” Luke elaborated.

“So, you got a picture? You gotta have a picture of your girl, Mitchell!”

Luke chuckled. He slipped the ring off his finger, and put it safely away before standing again with the picture. With a proud smile, he handed the frame to the Sergeant. The photo was burned into his mind. He sat in a white Adirondack chair, with Bella in his lap. His arm was across her bare legs, while the other supported her back. Bella leaned into him, smiling widely, with her arm around his neck. Luke could remember being painfully aware, at the time, how close her breast was to his cheek. Sergeant Barkowski held the picture and nodded in approval.

“Very nice, Mitchell. You seem to be a very lucky man.”

“Guilty as charged, Sergeant.”

“Call me Bark. My friends do. I don’t like Brett, and if we’re going to be saving each others sixes, we’d better be friends.” He handed the picture back.

Luke nodded. “Sure thing, Bark.”

*****

The large, red numbers on her alarm clock illuminated the room with the same effect on her head as four lamps. Isabella closed her eyes against the pounding pressure behind them. She reached up to adjust the bamboo shade on her window, attempting to completely block out the afternoon sun outside. Any light added weight to her headache, and her stomach churned with its intensity.

Isabella pushed her bangs back, and lifted Luke’s letter into a shard of light. Unable to deny the heartbreaking ache his words caused, she read part of the letter again.

“Where have you been? What’s going on? Why won’t you come to the phone? Why haven’t you written? It’s been almost two months! Is something wrong? Please, don’t do this to me. I love you, Bella. Talk to me…”

She tenderly touched the spiked letters, running her finger along the indentations in the fragile paper. His husky, deep voice spoke the words in her mind and haunted her. Isabella heard the deep strain in it, asking her questions she couldn’t answer. She covered her face with her hand, her mouth opening in a silent sob. The tears didn’t come anymore. The cries were soundless. But their violent torture on her body sucked the air from her lungs, and sadistic spasms shook her body.

Isabella slumped onto the bed, her body folding over on itself. Feeling lost and alone, like a child awake in the middle of the night, she curled into a tight ball inside her comforter. She laid the letter on her pillow and rested her cheek on it. If she closed her eyes, and shut out the rest of the world, she could almost believe none of it was real.

The soft knock at the door forced her eyes open.

“I’m not hungry, Mama,” she called. “I’ll eat later.”

Isabella pushed back the blanket when she heard the doorknob jiggle. It was locked, but apparently, she was not going to be left alone this afternoon.

“I’m taking a nap, Mama,” she said, trying to make her voice sound groggy.

With a distinct click, the lock disengaged, and the door opened. Isabella blinked against the light in the hall, and recognized the silhouette in the opening. Her heart skipped for a moment, and she felt a smile tug at her lips.

“Jack? What are you doing home? I thought you weren’t coming back until Thanksgiving.”

Jack came in, and shut the door behind him. He flipped on the light switch and Isabella squinted, shielding her eyes. In his hand was the screwdriver he used to jimmy the lock. He set it down on her bureau. Her brother crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Isabella reached to hug him. Despite the deep ache in her heart, it was good to see him, and she felt the weight lift a little bit.

He held her, rubbing his hand along her spine. “Mama called me two days ago and asked me to come home.”

She sat back and looked at him, forcing a strong smile on her face. “Why?”

Jack’s eyes roved her face, and he pushed some hair back from her cheek. Isabella waited, watching him watch her. She cursed herself for not bothering to get dressed yet, thinking of the baggy sweats she still wore. Her hair must look awful. With a shaky hand, she pushed some back herself.

“She and Pop are worried about you. She said you wouldn't talk to her. That you aren’t eating. How much weight have you lost?” She shrugged her answer. “Mama also told me you haven’t been taking Luke’s calls.” His voice wasn’t scolding or reprimanding, but gentle.

Isabella backed away, scooting to sit against the headboard. “She shouldn’t have called you. I’m fine.” Her voice held an edge.

“Isabella –-”

Her defensive walls shot up. She needed to be alone. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? “I’m fine, Jack.”

He reached for her, but she balked, and jumped up off the other side, immediately regretting it. Her stomach lurched, and she closed her eyes against the wave of nausea. Jack came around the foot of the bed and laid his hand on her arm. When the room stopped shifting beneath her feet, she opened her eyes.

“Isabella, tell me what’s going on.”

She took several deep breaths, trying to squelch the queasiness, but it wasn’t backing off. Isabella shoved her brother away and ran for her bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before her last meal came up. The retching shook her, coming from her toes and making its way out. Jack’s hands touched her back and pulled her hair out of the way as the final spasms left her.

She leaned against the side of her shower stall. Jack went to the sink and wet a washcloth. Isabella took it from him and wiped her mouth.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

Jack crouched beside her, taking back the cloth. He smoothed the cool terry over her face and neck. Isabella closed her eyes and succumbed to her twin’s gentle ministrations. After cooling her hot skin, he tossed the washcloth on the floor. She felt his eyes on her, but didn’t want to face his questions.

“Does Luke know?” Jack finally asked.

Isabella’s eyes snapped open. “Does Luke know what?”

“Sis, I’m a guy, but I’m not stupid. Is this why you won’t talk to him? Because you haven’t told him yet?”

“And I’m not going to.” She forced herself up, and left the small bathroom. Just the smell of shampoo and soap made her stomach churn.

Jack followed her to the bedroom and leaned into the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest. “What the hell are you talking about? You’ve got to tell him. He has a right to know. He loves you.”

“Stay out of this, Jack,” she said, her voice hard.

“Are you afraid of what he’ll do? Sis, you know what he’ll do. He’ll be here for you. He’ll do what’s right. If you two are having a baby—”

“Jack—”

“Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Isabella covered her ears with her palms, trying to block out her brother’s reasoning. Oh, if it were that easy. If only she could do just as he said. If she could go back seven weeks and relive that night, things would be so different.

“Stop,” she pleaded.

Her brother came to her and turned her to face him. “Isabella, as the father he has the right to know.”

“Don’t you get it?” she screamed at him. Her emotions were on overload, spewing out in a volcanic eruption. “I wish I could, Jack. But the baby isn’t Luke’s!”

Jack’s hands fell to his side. His jaw dropped, and his eyes squinted. He turned away and took several steps, before looking back at her. Isabella crossed her arms over her body, trying to hold in the tidal wave. It crashed down on her, drowning her and sucking out her strength. The empty hole around her heart grew larger. That moment was the first she let her mind acknowledge the truth. She was pregnant. Her blood ran cold, and the room closed in. She sank down onto the bed.

“Who’s is it?” Jack’s question almost went unheard. “Isabella?”

She raised her head, shaking it. She couldn’t say it. “Luke is going to hate me.”

“It’s too late to worry about what Luke’ll feel, isn’t it?” Jack snapped.

Isabella looked at him, and saw the condescension in his eyes. But it didn’t make her mad. It made her ashamed. Even more ashamed and disgusted than when she woke up the morning after the party, her head foggy and the telltale signs of sex on her body. She looked down at her bare feet.

Jack knelt in front of her, and took her hands. The scorn was gone, passing in a moment. “Isabella, you shouldn’t be going through this alone. Does the father know?”

She shook her head.

“You’ve got to tell him.”

Isabella chocked on a sob, swallowing against the lump that filled her throat. “I can’t. He won’t—” Words wouldn’t come. How could she explain? How could she say it?

I was drunk. I don’t remember even doing it. I hate myself for what I’ve done.

“Who is it, Isabella?”

She took a deep breath, the sigh trembling through her. “Brodhi.”

“Deacon Brodhi?”

She nodded. Jack stared at her intently. Then he squeezed her hands and stood. Without another word, he was gone and she was alone again. Fatigue sank into her bones, and she laid her head on the pillow. Maybe, if she slept, she would wake up and it all would be over. It was all a horrible dream. Maybe.

*****

Deacon stumbled back against the shelf; leather bound books falling around his head. He regained his feet, and wiped the blood away from his lip. Jack McNeil caught him off guard, but he wouldn’t do it again.

Jack stood several feet away, his feet apart and his fists doubled at his side. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, watching Deacon step away from the wall.

Deacon looked down at his own knuckle. Crimson liquid smeared on his skin. He worked his jaw back and forth, swallowing against the copper taste in his mouth.

“Do you want to tell me what that was for, McNeil?”

“For my sister.”

“Isabella?”

Deacon tried to put together the puzzle without having all the pieces. “What did she tell you?”

“Not much, but enough to know you’re a son of a bitch. I don’t know what kind of thing you’ve got going, but she shouldn’t be going through this shit alone.”

Deacon stared at Jack McNeil and wondered just how much of that night Isabella remembered. How clear the details were to her, and whether they were distorted into something that painted him as the bad guy.

No. If she said that, Jack would be killing him right now. He was mad, but not that mad. She shouldn’t be going through this alone. Deacon’s pulse quickened as blurry pieces moved together. He fought down the smile tugging at his lips.

“Jack, I need more information than this. Isabella has refused to talk to me for weeks. Is she okay? What’s wrong?”

“You really don’t know.” It was a statement from Jack, and not a question.

“No.”

Jack raked his hair with his hand, and turned away. He marched across the room, his hands planted firmly on his hips. Deacon heard him cursing under his breath in Spanish. When he looked up, his eyes were dark slits.

“My sister is going to have a baby.”

Deacon did his best to look shocked, yet not angry, and threw in a dash of happiness. For theatrical effect, he leaned into the desk beside him.

“She told me you’re the father. Is that true?” Jack demanded.

Deacon nodded slowly. “She’d never been with anyone else.” He knew by providing that piece of information, he sealed Isabella’s fate. He forced his face into a mask of surprise and concern. “Why didn’t she tell me herself, Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. My mother called me and told me Isabella was acting strange. I came home to try to help. I just found out this afternoon.”

Deacon sat back on the desk’s edge and crossed his arms. He stared into the carpet, mocking deep thought. “I’ve got to go see her,” he said, looking up. “And your father, I suppose.”

Jack looked surprised. Just the reaction Deacon wanted. He would be the adoring, yet misunderstood, father-to-be who would step in and do the right thing. One way or another, Isabella was his.

“What do you plan on doing?”

Deacon put his hands out, palm up. “What I have to, Jack. I’ve tried to convince Isabella since the beginning how I feel for her. She’s never quite believed me. She has to now. We’re having a child.” He spoke the words with awe. “I’m going to be there for her, and the baby. We’ll get married as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure this is what she’ll want?”

Deacon shook his head. “Jack, I’m not fooling myself. I know her first love was Luke Mitchell. But if she didn’t care for me, how would we have come to this place? We wouldn’t have this situation. She might not see it right now, but both you and I know this is the best thing. And I want it enough for both of us.”

Jack nodded, seeming to resign himself to Deacon’s answer.

“Can I come with you now, to the house? I want to speak to your father as soon as possible.”

*****

Isabella’s head throbbed even before she opened her eyes. She stuck her head out from beneath the comforter, and heard the soft knocking at her door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s Mama. Your Papa wants you to come down right away.”

Even through the door, Isabella heard something wrong in her mother’s voice. She slid off the bed, thankful the nausea seemed to ebb in the afternoon, and went to the door. Opening the door, she blinked against the light. Mama stood in the hall, and her face made Isabella gasp. She could tell her mother had been crying.

“Mama, what’s wrong?”

Mama touched her cheek, and tears filled her eyes again. “Please, get ready and come downstairs. Your Papa is waiting for you.”

Isabella nodded, and her mother walked away. A sinking feeling filled her, and she went back into her room to brush her hair and change. Jack must have told them. She wasn’t angry, but instead was thankful she didn’t have to say the words herself. Now she would face them, and decide what to do.

Her heart stopped when she stepped into the family room. Seated on the couch was her mother and father, Charles’ arm around Lourdes’ shoulder. Jack stood near the fireplace, leaning into the mantle. But it was the person sitting across from her parents that shocked her.

Deacon Brodhi sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows leaned into his legs and his hands clasped between his spread knees. He looked up, and their eyes met. Isabella’s stomach flipped, and she looked quickly to Jack. Dear God. He hadn’t told Mama and Papa. He had told Deacon!

“Sit down, Isabella,” her father said.

Through a fog, she moved into the room and sat down in the remaining empty chair. She couldn’t look back at Deacon, so she focused on her parents. But what she saw there broke her heart. Her mother’s eyes were swollen from crying, and she dabbed at the fresh tears with a handkerchief. Her father’s face was set, but she saw the sparkle of unshed tears in his eyes.

Dear God, what have I done?

Her father spoke, but not all the words made it to her ears. Some buried recess of her mind registered only fragments of the conversation. She sat in a daze, seeing through a wall of moisture the blurred images of her mother, father and brother.

“Deacon has asked to marry you as soon as possible. And I have agreed. Two weeks from today will be the ceremony.”

Her father’s announcement brought Isabella out of her daze. She blinked, and gasped.

“What?”

“I want us to be married right away,” said Deacon, and she turned to look at him. “I’ll take care of you and the baby. We’ll be a family.”

She stared at him, unable to connect the chaotic thoughts bouncing in her brain like ping pong balls. Flashes of memories blinked in and out as she stared at him. Deacon touching her cheek. Deacon’s weight pressing her down. The sound of crickets and rustling grass.

“No!”

Charles stood. “Yes, Isabella. Deacon was worried you wouldn’t agree right away, and now I see he knows you better than I thought. This is the best thing. He is here to take responsibility for the mistake made.”

Deacon stood as well. “Please, Isabella. I care for you. Let me take care of you. And our baby.”

She stepped back, needing space between them. Her skin crawled and her stomach clenched, hot blood pounding in her temples so strong it blurred her vision.

“You can’t just decide this for me,” she said past him to her father. “All of you. You sat here and decided my future without even thinking about what I wanted.”

“You are obviously not thinking straight, Isabella,” her father said. “Or you would have told us before now.”

Isabella looked to Jack. He only met her stare for a moment before dropping his chin and looking away. Tears burned her eyes and she clenched her teeth.

“You told him,” she ground out, then turned on Deacon. “And you just marched over here? And decided what was going to be?”

Deacon’s gaze held on her face, and his forehead pressed down. He swallowed hard before speaking. “I’ll take care of you, Isabella. I swear.”

Her mother came to her, but Isabella couldn’t look away from Deacon’s face even as Mama put her hands on her shoulders.

“This is best,” her mother said. “It will all be okay. This is the best.”

Isabella shook her head. Oh, Sweet Jesus, let this be a dream! Let this be some horrible, sickening nightmare! Blood pounded harder and harder in her head, making everything in the room blur. Her vision swam and the room went black. Vaguely, in the dark crevices of her mind, she knew someone caught her. But she didn’t know whom, and didn’t care.

Chapter Six

Luke moaned quietly as the phone rang one more time to the McNeil household. Every new peal drove a spike between his eyes. He leaned his arm into the wall and rested his forehead against the back of his hand. In robotic motion he hung up the pay phone, waited for the sound of his change falling into the bottom slot, redeposited the quarter into the phone, and dialed her number. The grating pattern of buzz and silence began again.

The line opened mid-ring and Luke stood straight. He heard someone take a deep, labored breath before speaking.

“Yeah,” was the greeting.

“Jack? It’s Luke.”

There was a pause. “Hey, Luke.”

“What are you doing home? Aren’t you supposed to be in Chicago?” Luke fought the tension in his voice, and the need to demand what he wanted.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been going back and forth a lot. I’m home for the weekend. How ya been? They’re not being too hard on you, are they?”

Luke stared at the writing on the wall around the phone. A variety of pens and pencils had written names and numbers of people he would never know. Most of the names were women: Veronica, Debra, Julie, and Susan. Scratched into the top of the black phone case was the date August 27, 1967.

“Is she there?” he asked. The lead ball settled into his gut again, in anticipation of Jack’s answer.

“Um, no. She’s not here right now.”

Luke closed his eyes. The lead ball flipped. He gritted his teeth, and flexed his fist at his side. “Jack, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The lie in Jack’s voice was as clear as the sun outside. “I haven’t gotten a letter from her in over two months, Jack. Two months. And she is either not home when I call, or she’s lying and refusing to take the call. What’s going on?”

A moment of silence passed. “I’ve been trying to get her to talk to you. She just won’t.”

“Why? Jack, you’re my best friend next to her. I’m going crazy. Tell me where she is.”

Jack cleared his throat. “She’s in town.”

“When will she be home?”

“She won’t. Not here, anyway.”

“Goddamnit! Don’t make me solve some goddamn riddle.” All his frustration of the last two months exploded outward and pounded in his ears. “And don’t give me half answers. What the hell is going on? Is she all right?”

“I don’t know if she is, or not. She won’t talk to me, or anyone else. I’ve been home for two days, and I think she’s said five words to me. Luke man, I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Jack!”

“She’s getting married today, Luke. That’s why she’s not here. And why she won’t be back here later.”

Luke’s world turned red. All air sucked from his lungs, and his heart pounded against his ribcage in an erratic, violent cadence. His fingers wrapped around the phone, his knuckles white. Clear thought escaped him. He swallowed against the desert dryness in his throat.

“Who?” he managed to choke out. His voice was barely more than a whisper. Jack didn’t answer, and the silence enraged him. “Who the hell is it, Jack!”

“Deacon Brodhi.”

Luke sucked his breath through clenched teeth, and ground his jaw together. His mind tried to sort and process as quick as possible, but he felt like he had just been run over by a tank. His grip on the receiver would have killed a man. Unable to speak, he slowly and deliberately hung up the phone. He pulled air in through flared nostrils. Adrenalin pumped savagely through his veins and his heart beat faster with each rapid intake of breath. With one powerful burst, he drew back his shoulder and slammed his fist into the wall. Pain shot through his arm at the impact, but he neither winced nor yelled as the searing sensation brought him back to reality.

It just couldn’t be. Bella, the woman he loved for years, betrayed him. As soon as he was out of sight, she moved on to another man. Deacon Brodhi was the son of the wealthiest slimeball politician in the county. He was also an asshole. Why would she turn to him? Why tell Luke she loved him, only to turn around into the arms of Brodhi? All the promises she made were lies.

But it all made sense now. Why he hadn’t gotten a letter in so long. Obviously, the relationship started about the time the letters stopped. It also explained why she never took a call. He wrote religiously, and called every chance he had. Now he felt like a fool.

She was marrying Deacon Brodhi. Luke’s temples pounded and his lungs burned for air.

He turned on his boot heels and marched out of the hall with long, powerful strides. His fists flexed and released at his side. Luke didn’t acknowledge B Company, who shouted his name and waved on their way to mess. On the opposite edge of the field, he broke into a dead run on the cross-country trail. His heavy boots kicked up a fine cloud of dust as he ran. After four miles, his lungs settled into a familiar rhythm with the exertion. His chest ached from something else.

At the nine-mile mark, his steps slowed and his footfalls fell heavy in the dirt. Luke leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. He sucked in his breath. The dust burned his nose and throat. There was no stifling the shuddering cries that racked his chest. Luke fell to his knees and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, willing the tears not to come. But they already had. Miles ago. Rough rocks and pebbles dug into his knees through the heavy material of his fatigues, and the dirt stung his eyes. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

Chapter Seven

Isabella edged her arm from beneath her son’s head as gently and motionless as possible. He sighed in his sleep and nuzzled his cheek against the side of her breast. She held her breath, and wrapped her fingers around the remote control. After turning the television on, she quickly lowered the volume. Christopher stirred slightly, and settled down again when his little hand found the end of her hair. Slowly, she let out her breath.

Christopher had been restless all day, and she suspected he was cutting another tooth. After three hours of cajoling and walking, she accepted he wasn’t going to sleep anywhere but where he was. Humming and singing finally put him asleep, but she knew she wouldn’t be seeing bed any time soon. Late night television was her only company now.

She watched the end of a made-for-television movie, and the eleven o’clock news came on. There was a brief story about her father-in-law and his Senatorial campaign, and a human interest about a five-year-old who called 911 and saved her mother. Then the camera focused on the local anchorman. His face was somber and serious. A picture of a military tank surrounded by swirling sand sat near his ear. Isabella turned up the sound slightly, to catch what he had to say.

“Members of the 75^th Ranger Regiment, First Platoon, conducted various raids on enemy strongholds and worked with Allied Forces in a cooperative movement. The Rangers, a regiment of the best soldiers in today’s Army, are counted on to be the first to attack and bring this operation to an expeditious end. The success of the assault has not yet been determined, but it is believed there were no Ranger casualties as a result of the conflict. We will be here, around the clock, with immediate updates should they occur.”

Isabella swallowed against the dryness in her throat. Her hand shook as she leveled the remote control at the man’s head. With a click, he was gone and the screen went black. She sucked air into burning lungs, and blinked against the hot tears. This happened every time she saw an update on any United States military actions in the Middle East, or anywhere else.

She hated not knowing where Luke was, or what was happening to him. Whenever her eyes closed, she saw him boarding the bus for Basic Training a year and a half before. No one imagined then that America would find itself facing a potential war. Had she known, she would have begged and pleaded for him not to go. Had he never boarded that Greyhound, she wouldn’t be sitting here now, in the dark, praying to God for his protection.

If he hadn’t gotten on that bus, many things might not have happened.

Isabella glanced down at her black-haired son. He was still considered an infant, but he grew by leaps and bounds. At just seven months old, he scooted around the house like a speed demon, moving from one piece of furniture to another. Only when the gap between couch and chair was too great would he drop to his knees. Christopher was the source of her sanity, and had it not been for him, she would have gone mad long ago.

Except for the memory of Luke. Nothing pushed him out of her mind. Her heart was filled with love for her son. But the love for another man kept it beating. Love for a man gone from her life forever.

Isabella coughed on her restrained tears, and swore under her breath. Why did she do this to herself? She sat alone in the dark and thought of him. At night, he filled her dreams. Her guilt never lessened, knowing she wronged him. He had to have forgotten her by now, and who could blame him? She certainly didn’t.

This way she held the perfect memory of what they had, for the short time they had it, in her heart. She loved Luke more than anything in the world, except for her son.

Isabella turned the television back on, only to be bombarded with clips of night bombings. Beams of green light illuminated the dark sky through night vision cameras. With each explosion she winced and wondered if Luke was anywhere near the blasts.

The phone on the end table beckoned her. She stared at it, hoping the dangerous thoughts racing through her mind would just go away. A mummy in a trance, she picked up the cordless receiver and stared at the illuminated keypad. Holding and dialing with the same hand, she punched in the number for directory assistance. With a fortifying breath, Isabella put the receiver to her ear.

“Maine, please,” she told the female voice that asked what state she wanted information for.

“City and listing please.”

“Um, I’m not sure of the city,” she choked out. Her voice quivered and she glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s Katahdin Mountain? I don’t know the exchange.”

“Do you know what side?”

Isabella pressed her eyes shut. “No. I’m sorry. Maybe–maybe if you named some of the cities?”

The woman sighed. “Brownville Junction. Guilford. Millinocket.”

She nodded. “Millinocket. That’s it. The listing is for Hank Mitchell.” Her heart pounded faster.

“There is no listing for Hank Mitchell. I have a Mitchell Logging Company.”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Isabella committed the number to memory, disconnected and dialed again. She shook so badly she worried Christopher would wake up. With the phone to her ear, she listened to the tone beep. It rang only twice before someone answered.

“Yeah-hello.”

Isabella smiled at the warm sound of the elder Mitchell’s voice. “Um, Mr. Mitchell?” She spoke softly, losing all strength in her voice. “Is this Hank Mitchell?”

“Sure is. Who is this?”

“This…this is Isabella. Do you remember me?”

For an agonizing moment, there was silence on the line. “I do. What can I do for you, Isabella?” She heard the change in his voice. Isabella knew his opinion of her was probably not very high.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mitchell, but I had to call while I still had the nerve.”

“Again, Isabella, what can I do for you?”

She bit back the tears. “Is he okay?” she asked, her voice breaking with the intense emotion that raged in her chest.

Hank cleared his throat. “Luke is fine, for now. He was part of the first wave that went over. They’re reporting no Ranger casualties.”

Isabella let her breath escape. “Thank God. I’ve been so frightened.”

“I’m surprised to hear that.”

The anger edging his words was clear, even through the phone lines. Isabella’s heart collapsed around the pain.

“I know you don’t have a high opinion of me, Mr. Mitchell. I don’t blame you. But I care for him.” I love him. “I always have, and I always will. I needed to know he was okay.”

She heard a car door outside. Without a word of good-bye, she hung up the phone and set it on the table. Deacon’s keys clicked in the front door, and she looked over her shoulder to watch her husband come in. His tie was loosened, and his suit jacket draped over one arm. He set his briefcase down and walked across the room to where she sat.

“It’s very late, Izzy. Why are you still up?” he asked. “Waiting up for me?”

“Christopher is teething. He’s fussy.”

Deacon only nodded, going past her to the kitchen. She heard the refrigerator door and a beer bottle being opened. Christopher stirred and she bounced him gently to keep him asleep. The sound of clanking dishes and silverware sent a jolt to her pulse, and heat rushed to her cheeks.

Damn! The dishes!

“Izzy, why are these dishes still here?” Deacon asked, coming back into the living room.

“I just haven’t had time to get to them. I told you, Christopher has been fussy.”

“Isabella, you are here all day long. I never asked you to go to work, I can take care of this family just fine, but I expect you to do what needs to be done here.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, shifting Christopher in her arms. “It’s just the dishes. I’ve done everything else.”

“What if I had brought my father home today? Or if some of the wives in the neighborhood had dropped in unexpected? Izzy, I’ve told you before. Appearance is very, very important.”

“But no one did, Deacon.”

“That’s not the point, Izzy. Don’t be stupid,” he said sternly, his eyes hard on her. A contrast to his relaxed features. “I’ve invited Mother and Father to dinner tomorrow night. Make sure everything is presentable.”

Isabella nodded, glancing around the immaculate living room. Just to be sure, she would vacuum the drapes and polish the hardwood floors tomorrow before beginning dinner.

“Allison and Phillip will be with them.”

She looked down at Christopher to hide the frown she knew took over her face. Putting on appearances for her in-laws was one thing, but to have to play hostess for Bitch-Allison left a nasty taste in the back of her throat.

“I don’t appreciate your attitude over Allison,” Deacon said, his voice sharp. “I know the two of you have never gotten along, but she is your family now, and I expect you to act accordingly. She and Phillip are having problems, and Allison has mentioned calling the wedding off. I believe that they may be able to learn by our example of what a good marriage can be.”

She bit her tongue, holding in the myriad of opinions that immediately popped to mind. Deacon headed back to the kitchen to rinse out his empty bottle and place it in the recycling bin. “Oh, and wear that lilac dress Mother bought you. You look very nice in that. And while I’m thinking of it, get rid of that outfit you wore yesterday. It made you look cheap.”

“Yes, Deacon,” Isabella said, scooting forward on the couch to stand, juggling Christopher in her arms.

“I want you to serve Beef Wellington, and get the meat at Mother’s butcher shop.”

“Yes, Deacon,” she said again.

He went on to give her instructions on which dishes to set out, and which tablecloth to put on the dining room table. Most of what he said she had already assumed, but mentioning that fact would do little good. Deacon would just tell her not to try to outthink him. He knew what was best, and she needed to be silent and listen.

Fatigue dropped over her like a wet blanket thrown on her shoulders. Whether it was the hour, or her struggle to be everything Deacon wanted her to be, she was suddenly very tired. She shifted Christopher up onto her shoulder, rubbing her hand over his back and bottom.

“Put him down for the night,” Deacon said, brushing past her as he removed his tie. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you when you’re done washing the dishes.”

He went up the stairs, pulling his tie free as he went, and Isabella watched his retreating back. She sighed and moved to follow up, but stopped when Christopher suddenly lifted his head and let out a wail. Isabella glanced at the grandfather clock near the door. Midnight quickly approached, and bed seemed far away.

*****

“Here’s to the 75^th!”

“Hoooahh!”

The cheers of several half-drunk Rangers filled the small, dark bar. Glass mugs and longnecks slammed together. After spending months in heat and sand that grated the skin and invaded every part of the body, the men gathered in the bar found the cold beer, stale pretzels and popcorn a veritable feast. Tasteless, rubbery snack and frosty, foamy brew invigorated them and pumped their adrenaline faster.

Luke drained his bottle in three deep, satisfying gulps. He laughed loudly and slapped the backs of the men on each side of him.

“Feels damn good to be back, huh, Bark?”

Sergeant Barkowski, Luke’s now close friend, hooked his arm around him in a man’s embrace. “No shit, Mitchell. Hand me another beer.”

Another cold mug slid down the wet bar, and Brett caught it. Someone filled the jukebox with quarters, and the place filled with loud, hard rock and roll. Def Leppard reverberated off the walls. Luke released his friend, stepped back, and took several gulps from his new beer. He laughed with his company-mates, joining them in a loud chorus.

Luke’s eyes scanned the room, inexplicably drawn to a solitary woman. She sat in a worn out booth near the jukebox and watched the huddle of raucous soldiers who quickly approached drunkenness. It was her almost platinum blonde hair that caught his eye. Demurely, her fingertip traced the lip of her glass as her eyes locked with his. Holding his stare, she dipped her finger into the brown liquid. Luke groaned when she took the finger between her lips and sucked the alcohol from the well-manicured tip. Blood rushed to places on his body that hadn’t seen much attention in the last several months.

Brazen with alcohol, and euphoric to be home, he smiled. Luke walked towards the booth, trying out his cockiest strut. She smiled only slightly when he slid into the booth. He set down his beer and leaned back.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am, this might not be the night for a lady to be here. A bar full of rowdy Rangers doesn't suit most.”

“I’m used to rowdy Rangers,” she said in a husky whisper.

Luke didn’t know if it was the alcohol, or the shine of her hair, but heat rose in his groin. He shifted against his civi-slacks, trying to release the pressure on his misbehaving member. Luke looked her over in the dim lit room.

Her blonde hair was shoulder length, but cut in a tousled style that gave her a bedroom-ready look. He thought her eyes were blue, but the ambient lighting in Frank’s played tricks with his vision, so he couldn’t be sure. What he saw of her body was nice, and she certainly seemed receptive. He slid his arm across the table and offered his hand.

“Luke Mitchell, ma’am.”

“Alicia McGuire.” She took his hand, and her small one was engulfed in its large size.

“McGuire?”

Alicia dropped her gaze, and looked at him through her lashes. “Yes, as in Colonel McGuire. He’s my father. But don’t worry, Ranger. I don’t kiss and tell.”

*****

October 2 ½ years later...

“They sent him and the last of his battalion into Saudi Arabia last week,” Hank Mitchell explained solemnly.

Isabella gasped, and covered her mouth. The horrific pictures filling the news waves that week frightened her. But now, to find out Luke was in the worst part of the battle, shot panic through her heart. In terror, she remembered the report saying six Rangers died in one of the fiercest ground battle since Vietnam.

“Where is he now?”

“I haven’t gotten official word yet, but I’m taking that as a good sign. If he were one of the few to die, they would have let me know by now. His mother or me. We’ve been keeping in touch since this whole thing broke out.”

Isabella pressed her eyes closed, and tried to maintain calm in her voice. “But he hasn’t called you yet?”

“No. He’s still over there as far as I know. The battle was won last week, but it’s not over yet. He won’t be home any time soon. When he can, he’ll call.”

Isabella pushed back her hair with a shaky hand. Once again, she thanked God for these brief conversations Hank Mitchell conceded to. When her fear was the greatest, she would call him and find out if Luke was okay. Not knowing drove her mad.

“Could he have been on any of the choppers that were shot down?”

“Luke is part of the airborne unit. It’s a possibility. Isabella, we can’t assume the worst. We have to believe he’s fine until we hear otherwise. Do you want me to call you when I hear?”

“No,” she nearly screamed, but checked herself. “No, you can’t call here. I’ll–I’ll call you next week. When it’s more likely you’ve heard.”

“Isabella, are you sure you don’t want me to tell him? I really think I should.”

Isabella laughed sadistically at herself. “No, Hank. I don’t think that would be smart. But I am so grateful to you. For understanding how much I need to know.” She paused before continuing. “And besides, what would the new Mrs. Mitchell think of me calling?”

Hank chuckled. “Alicia.” Aversion tinged his voice. “I think he would want to know. Alicia or not.”

“No, please. Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t,” he conceded. “Now tell me, Isabella. How are you? Is everything okay?”

Simultaneously, Isabella heard Christopher wake from his nap and Deacon’s car in the driveway. “I’ve got to go,” she said quickly, and hung up the cell phone.

Slowly, Hank Mitchell hung up his old rotary phone and shook his head. The conversation always ended the same way. She always hung up suddenly, usually with no farewell. Sometimes the calls were frequent, maybe once a month. Then months might pass without hearing from her. If it had been several months, the call usually came in the still calm of the night. Her quiet voice would ask the welfare and well being of his son.

She still loved Luke. Hank Mitchell knew that much.

Her apprehension and concern for his son confused him. He didn’t understand how she could seem to care, yet do what she had done to him. They seemed to really love each other when Luke boarded the bus for Basic Training. For years before that day, Hank heard nothing but praise and endearment from his son for the black-eyed girl.

In the four years since, Luke adamantly refused to discuss her or anything about Indian Prairie. He went back occasionally, to visit his mother, but not often. And Hank knew the visits were short, to avoid any unplanned meetings with Isabella. Thus far, he had avoided her.

It shocked Hank when Luke announced plans to marry Alicia McGuire, daughter of his commanding officer, the year before. In Hank’s mind, his son didn’t even seem to care for the woman all that much. She was the opposite of everything Hank thought his son would want in a wife. Fair and pale, she hated everything outdoors. Alicia abhorred horses, and had nothing good to say about Hank’s rustic mountain home. Physical affection barely existed between them. Luke got frustrated with her complaining and whining; yet he went ahead and married her four months before.

Hank shook his head, and walked away from the phone table.

*****

Luke woke with a start. He sat up, but yelled as pain shot through his side and down his left leg. Cruel reality slapped him in the face.

A matronly nurse came to his bedside and touched his cheek. “I wouldn’t suggest doing that too many times, sweetness, or you’ll open the wound again.

He looked around. Confusion set in as he tried to get his bearings. The starch-white room held five beds, three of which were occupied by wounded men. All were members of his battalion.

“The raid?” he mumbled.

“Yes, sweetness,” she whispered. “You took two bullets. One in your side, and the other in your leg. But you’re doing just fine now. You’ll be flying home tomorrow, to finish recovering in the States.”

Luke’s eyes squinted together. The painkillers fogged his mind, but he remembered the fight. He and Bark jumped clear of the chopper just before it burst into flames from a surface-to-air attack. They hit the ground and immediately engaged in hand-to-hand combat. His M16 was useless at that range, but he used the butt to crack three enemy heads near him.

The details of the fight were foggy. At that point, instinct kicked in and he fought like a well-trained machine. Logical thought ceased as the years of rigorous conditioning took over. Shouts from other Rangers warned more enemy forces were coming over the ridge. Squaring his body over his knees, he fired when they came into view. Bullets ricocheted off the dried clay walls around him, and he dove to the ground for cover. With his back braced against a half-crumbled wall, Luke reloaded the magazine of his weapon.

He saw Brett get hit as he scanned the battlefield.

His friend stood to fire, and as he lined his sites, the shots rang out. Luke watched in horror as Brett’s body arched and jerked with each penetrating bullet. His arms flailed out, and his M16 hit the ground, firing on impact.

“No,” Luke screamed and leaped up. He crawled and rolled across the rocky ground until he reached his fallen friend. With his hands hooked beneath Brett’s arm, he dragged him behind a tall pile of rocks.

He tossed his helmet aside and pulled Brett into his lap. “Brett! Come on Bark, answer me!”

Luke lifted his hand from Brett’s chest. Crimson gore covering it. Blood pooled beneath his friend’s body. It mingled with the dirt. Brett turned to him, smiling through the black face paint.

“I’m here, buddy,” Brett whispered. His voice cracked and broke. “Jeez, what a fight, huh?”

Luke tried to stop the bleeding with his hand, but realized it did no good. “Medic,” he yelled.

Brett grabbed his arm. “Don’t worry about it, Mitchell. I’m done.”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Luke demanded.

Brett smiled again. “Just keep your goddamn ass alive and get outta here. You hear me? You’ve got that new wife at home, waiting for you.”

“You’ll be fine. Do you hear me? You’ll be fine.”

Brett’s grip went limp. His head fell sideways. In a trance, Luke stood, his friend’s body sliding to the ground. Anger surged through him. In a daze, he picked up his M16. An Army yell tore its way out from the deepest, darkest corners of his soul. He ran back into the battle. With instinctual precision, he took down nearly a dozen of the enemy before he felt the burning sensation in his side. The ground rushed up.

Now Luke shook his head against the memory. “Barkowski? Ranger Barkowski?” he stated, posing the half-question to the nurse.

She dropped her eyes and looked away. Luke turned his glance to the next bed. “Johnson. What happened to Brett Barkowski?”

Tyler Johnson turned his face to Luke. A white bandage covered one eye and half his shaved head, a stark contrast to the deep blackness of his skin. “He didn’t make it, man. We lost six, and he was one of ‘em.”

Luke’s head fell back onto the pillow. Brett. Gone. His closest friend and Best Man at his wedding was dead. A heaviness sank into his chest, and his throat burned with restrained emotion. He swallowed painfully against it.

“Hey, Mitchell. I thought you hitched up with McGuire’s daughter,” Tyler asked.

Luke nodded. “Alicia. Why?”

“Well, it wasn’t Alicia you shouted out over there. Sounded like Bella.”

Luke turned away. Why now? Why, after four years, does she still haunt my dreams and invade my thoughts?

Who am I kidding? She never stopped.

*****

November 5

I’m sorry if this letter puts you at risk, but I knew you would want to know when I did.

He was wounded in the raid on the 13^th. He took a bullet in the leg and side. I’ve been told he was unconscious for two days, but the wounds were never life threatening. He spent a week at a temporary hospital on the foreign base, and then came back to Washington State to recuperate.

They seem to think he’ll recover fine. There won’t be any long-term problems. He doesn’t intend to leave the Rangers. I hope to hear from him again soon.

Until next time…

HM

Isabella’s hand shook as she read the letter. She folded the piece of paper and walked back into the house, snatching up her rambunctious toddler along the way. Once inside, she sat down and read it again.

Luke had been hurt.

She closed her eyes, wincing at the pain that stung the bruised and swollen flesh that reached back to her right temple, and said a quick prayer. Isabella thanked God for keeping him safe, and prayed He would continue to do so. With terrible grief, she slowly tore the letter into small, indiscernible pieces.

Chapter Eight

Luke stood in the kitchen of his father’s cabin, which also served as dining room and part-time office. His hands folded behind his back and his feet squared beneath him in a military stance. The stringent rigors of his training were always apparent. The thoughts on his mind were far from the Rangers. They were in the treetops and on the mountain peaks outside his father’s window. Snow sprinkled branches and the frozen river distracted him. He took a deep breath, and slowly released it.

“What are you thinkin’ about, son?” his father asked from the doorway.

Luke turned and watched Hank scratch his winter beard with calloused fingertips. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and motioned out the window with a tilt of his head.

“I never get tired of looking at the trees. In Oklahoma we had forests, but nowhere near as lush. When I was in Saudi and Somalia, I really realized it. It was lifeless compared to here.”

Hank sat down at the table. “I think there’s more on your mind than that.”

Luke smiled and sat down across from his father. “You’ve really gotten to know me over the last few years, Dad.”

Hank chuckled. “I know you because you’re like me. But you’re your mother’s son, too. You look at things the way I do, but you hide ‘em just the way she used to. I could always tell when she had something on her mind, even if she wouldn’t admit it to me.” His father pointed a finger at him. “You know better than to try and pull the wool over my eyes.”

Luke sat back, and stretched out his long legs. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately. Dad, I think you need more help here than you’ll admit to.”

“Oh, I’m doing fine.”

“But you could do better. Don’t even think you can pretend otherwise. I know this has been a rough winter for you. You’ve been sick, and I know the doctor’s worried about your blood pressure. You’re working way too hard. Hell, Dad, most men in their twenties couldn’t keep up with the pace you set. You can’t keep it up. What are you going to do come spring, when the camp is in full running order?”

“I’ll do fine, I told you. I’ll bring on more men.”

“The way production is going right now, you can’t afford it,” Luke stated.

Hank stood, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot sitting on the wood-burning cook stove. “And what do you suggest?”

Luke picked up a pencil, and bounced the eraser off the tabletop. “I think we should move up here. That way I can help you more. You always said this place would be mine someday. I want my part now.”

Hank choked on his coffee. His cup hit the table with a thud. “Do you really think Alicia will move up to the mountains of Maine willingly? She doesn’t even come up here to visit anymore.”

“I know.” A defeated, conciliatory tone crept into his voice. “That thought has crossed my mind.”

“Do you plan on leaving the Rangers? You’ve been in the Army for seven years.”

“Maybe it’s time for a change.”

“I thought the Rangers was what you wanted.”

“Dad, I’m good at being a Ranger. I got into the Rangers because I’m good at it. At the time, it seemed like the thing to do. It occupied my mind, and got me ahead of the game.”

“That’s all it is?”

Luke shook his head. “It’s what I do, but I don’t want it to be who I am. Dad, you should see some of these guys. I’ve been with them since training. They’re ruthless. Hardnosed and cold blooded. If I stay much longer–if I see another war–that might be me. I don’t want that to be who I am.”

“It won’t if you don’t let it,” Hank offered.

“I don’t think I’d be able to stop it. I feel it already.” He motioned out the window with a jerk of his thumb. “This is who I am, Dad.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

Luke nodded. “Since Somalia.”

“That’s a long time.”

Luke rubbed a frustrated hand over his hair. “Dad, I only planned on being in the Army for two or three years. It was supposed to be a short stint. Not seven years of my life. It’s not what I planned.”

“Alicia isn’t what you planned either, but you’ve got to live with that.”

Luke conceded with a nod. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Several things aren’t what I planned. But there’s still time to salvage things.”

“I tell you what, son. You’re going back to Washington tomorrow. Think about it away from here. If you still want to, this house is always open to you. To both of you. You know that. I’ll abide by whatever decisions you make. If coming back here is what you want, well, I’ll get to work on a new sign.”

“A new sign?”

“Mitchell and Son Logging.”

Luke smiled. “That sounds great, Dad.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Luke looked over his shoulder out the window. Wind whipped around the house, bringing a shower of fresh snow down off the trees. He touched the cold glass with his fingertip, leaving a clear circle in the frost.

“Why did you marry her?” his father asked.

Luke turned back, but didn’t meet his father’s gaze. He took an apple out of the basket on the table. A sardonic grin turned up one corner of his lips. “That’s a good question, Dad. I’m surprised it took you so long to ask it.”

“I’m asking now.”

Luke stared into the dark red skin of the apple. Would it miraculously turn into a crystal ball and reveal all the answers he wanted? He knew the answers. He just didn’t like most of them.

Luke looked back at his father. “Alicia is everything she isn’t.” He didn’t speak the name, but his father knew who. “Alicia’s fair and voluptuous, materialistic, cold and snobbish. She hates the outdoors and despises Maine.” Luke looked at his father. “I’m pretty sure she sleeps around on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“She’s thrown it in my face enough times.”

“Is this the woman you love that you’re talking about?”

Luke dropped the apple back into the basket. “No, it’s my wife.”

*****

“Mr. McNeil, you have a call on line three.” Rachel’s slow voice came over Jack’s intercom phone and broke his concentration.

Jack bounced the eraser tip of his pencil on his legal pad. “I’m reviewing a case for argument tomorrow afternoon, Rachel. Who is it? What is it about?”

“He didn’t say what it was regarding, but he said his name is Mitchell.”

“Is that a first name, or last name?” Jack snapped.

“Luke Mitchell.”

“Holy Shit.” Jack snatched up the phone. “Luke Mitchell, you no good son of a gun. I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”

“Nice to talk to you, too.”

Jack laughed at the wry tone in Luke’s voice.

“How the hell are you?” Luke asked.

“Great. Just great. Man, I haven’t heard from you since, well, awhile. It’s been a long time. Christine and I got married four years ago.”

“Yeah, I heard. You bastard. Did Erin and Scott go through with it?”

“No. They split up. I guess that happens.”

“I guess so.”

The conversation pussyfooted around his sister as if she were a landmine. Jack knew it and felt the subtle tension. They quickly covered the last seven years in a series of questions for each other.

“Listen, my wife and I are in Tulsa for the weekend. Why don’t you and Christine drive up, and we’ll go out to dinner?”

“Wife? When did that happen?”

“A couple years ago. You can meet her at dinner. What do ya say?”

*****

Jack helped Christine out of their Volvo, and handed their keys to the valet. Christine slid her hand into the crook of his arm as they approached the door.

“Jack, do you have any idea how awkward this is going to be?” she whispered close to his ear.

“Believe me, sweetheart, I’ve thought about it ever since he called. There should be plenty to talk about without bringing up Isabella.”

Luke and his wife were already seated when the maitre de showed them to the table. Luke stood and yanked Jack into a rough hug. His palms slapped Jack’s back loudly. He embraced Christine and kissed her cheek before they sat and he introduced Alicia. She was an attractive woman, blonde and shapely, but her eyes were cold. She nodded slightly, and her smile was brief.

“Damn it, look at you two,” Luke exclaimed. “I never would have put you together.”

Jack looked to his wife, and covered her hand on the table with his own. “Neither did we. But she’s the best.” Christine smiled and blushed.

“It’s ironic, huh?” Luke said low, then shifted and cleared his throat. “So, where are the others? Damian and Brian?”

“Well, Damian is in Boston, like he always said he would be. He’s working with a theater company and loving it. I have just about everyone’s addresses and emails, if you want them. No one knows where Brian is.”

“What?”

“He left Indian Prairie and never looked back. The last time anyone saw him was—” Jack stopped mid-sentence. The last time had been Isabella’s wedding. “Well, a couple months after you went in. He just left, and hasn’t contacted anyone.”

Luke’s face darkened, and Jack guessed he knew what was going unsaid. He glanced at Luke’s wife, and her eyes could have frozen the fires of hell. She sat back in her chair in an uninterested stance, and sipped at her Chablis. Her eyes never looked up, to either Luke or them. The physical distance between them belied the emotional one. Jack didn’t have to be a marriage counselor to see things weren’t good in the land of Mitchell. They could have sat on opposite sides of the table and been less obvious.

They talked for a long time over appetizers, the main entrée and desert. Where there were no more excuses to stay, they rose and left the restaurant. Once outside, Luke touched Jack’s arm and motioned him away from where the women stood.

“I’m only going to ask once, Jack. This isn’t the reason I called you, but I realize now I’ve got to ask. How is she?”

Jack looked down at the concrete, grinding an old cigarette butt into it with the toe of his shoes. “I wish I could tell you for sure, Luke. She barely talks to any of us anymore. She lives minutes away, but she might as well be on another planet.”

“Too busy with her loving husband?”

The anger edging Luke’s voice was almost palpable. He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. Jack shrugged and looked out into the lights of the city. Not being able to explain the way it was with his twin sister made him feel stupid. Worse than not explaining was the not knowing.

For years, Jack blamed Isabella’s distance on her anger towards him for being the one to tell Deacon. Even though they had been married for years, Jack assumed she still felt resentment for the original events that brought them together. After so long, they fell into the habit of not speaking the way they had growing up.

But Jack knew – deep down in his gut – that no matter what happened in the past, his sister would come to him if something were really wrong.

“No, I don’t think so. We don’t see her much. It’s been that way since she and Deacon married. Christopher comes to the house once in awhile to play with our girls, but not as much as we’d like.”

“Christopher?”

“Her son. He’s going to be seven in May. Great kid.”

Fire flashed behind Luke’s eyes, and Jack knew he just told Luke something he didn’t know before.

“Did she marry Deacon Brodhi because she was pregnant?” Luke snapped out.

Jack nodded his head regretfully. “I thought you knew. I’m sorry, Luke. I guess I should’ve guessed you wouldn’t. For a while, I thought he was yours. But she swore he wasn’t and said you couldn’t know.”

“No chance of it. She and I never--,” Luke stumbled over the words.

“That’s what she said. But Luke, I think there’s more we all need to know.”

“I know all I need to.”

*****

Isabella slowly shut the door to Christopher’s room and stood just outside to make sure he was asleep. She glanced down the hall to the bedroom. Deacon came home while she tucked Christopher in, and she heard him banging around in the room. With a tug on the belt of her robe, she walked down the hall.

Deacon wasn’t in the bedroom, but she heard the medicine cabinet close in the adjoining bathroom. She glanced down the hall, back to Chris’ room. Maybe she could convince Deacon he was sick, and she would have to sleep in his room for the night. Deacon was home early, and that usually meant a long evening for her. Her stomach flipped when she saw the half-empty bottle of gin on the nightstand.

Oh, God. Not again. Please not again.

Deacon stepped out of the bathroom, and Isabella was shocked to see a package of her birth control pills in his hand. He pointed at her with the compact.

“Is this the only one you’ve got in the house? Or do you keep spares?”

“Why do you need that?”

“I’m asking you the question, Izzy.”

His sharp voice stood as warning. “I have another in the closet,” she answered.

He went back into the bathroom, and she heard the closet door open. Swallowing, she walked to the doorway.

“What are you doing,” she demanded when she saw him.

Deacon stood near the toilet, punching every last pill through the bottom of the package into the bowl. He didn’t answer, but discarded the open compact to begin the same process on the spare.

“Deacon! What are you doing?”

“I want to make sure you don’t sneak these.”

“Sneak them? You know I’m taking them.”

Deacon looked at her over his shoulder. “Not anymore.”

“What?” What the hell is he doing? Her mind raced to figure out what he was up to. Why would he destroy her contraceptives?

Deacon finished, and turned to her. He loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed the room. “We had a strategies meeting today with Dad’s PR people. Their opinion is we need to express a more family oriented campaign to get re-elected. So, I shared with Dad our good news.”

Isabella backed away until she hit his tall bureau. “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t expect you to. I told Dad we were trying to have another baby. And another grandkid should help his image.”

Revulsion churned in Isabella’s gut. She shook her head. No, things were all too clear to her now. Deacon pulled off his shirt, and dropped it on the floor. He pressed against her and worked at the belt of her robe.

“We’re not,” she choked out.

“Well, we weren’t. Until tonight. Tonight the baby-making fun begins, sweetheart.”

Isabella tried to move from between him and the bureau, but his grip was like steel. The smell of alcohol fermented his breath and permeated his clothing. A smell she had become all too accustomed to in the last few years, as his drinking had become more frequent and more severe.

“I don’t want a baby.”

“Of course you do,” he said and pressed his face into her neck. His hands painfully kneaded her breasts and he yanked down her robe. “Every woman wants a bunch of kids running around the house. I know you wouldn’t ask, so I’m giving it to you. I’ve always given you what you want. What you need.”

She pushed him away with a burst of strength. “No, Deacon. I don’t want this. You can’t decide this without me.”

A storm crossed his face, and his fists clenched. “You haven’t learned yet, have you Izzy?” You don’t make decisions. You’re too stupid for that. You do as you’re told, when you’re told to do it.”

“I’ll wear the clothes you tell me to wear, and I’ve shopped at the stores you’ve wanted me to shop at. I’ve cooked the meals you wanted me to cook. I’ve played nice for your father’s associates, but I will not do this,” she said, speaking quickly as she pushed against his chest.

“I am making this choice!”

“No! Deacon, if you do this—”

He cut her off, his fist clenched around her throat so hard he lifted her off the floor. She struggled to stand on her toes, gasping for air. Panic shot through her like shards of ice, and she flailed desperately to get free. Deacon pressed his body against hers, holding her like a vice between him and the wall.

“What, Izzy? If I do this what? Are you going to leave me? Divorce me?”

Her vision blurred on the edges, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. Terror surged through her blood, pounding in her temples, and she clawed at his wrist. Just as she felt the edges of her consciousness slip away, he released her and she fell to the floor as her knees buckled.

Isabella sucked in air, coughing and choking as she tried to pull oxygen through her swollen throat. She looked up at Deacon, her body trembling with weakness and terror. He looked down on her, his fists clutched at his side and his chest heaving in exertion.

Deacon crouched down beside her and she pulled back, pressing as close as she could to the wall behind her.

“You are mine, Izzy. From the moment I decided I wanted you, you were mine. You will always be mine. That boy is mine. And whatever other little brat you squeeze out will be mine.” His voice was ice cold, yet as scalding as the fires of hell. “I keep what is mine. If you ever, ever try to leave me, I promise you, you will never see your children again.”

Isabella swallowed against the sob that choked her. Tears burned her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

“Deacon, please…” she managed to whisper.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. She cried out, wishing she could stop the cries that wracked her body. Deacon had hit her before, but only a handful of times, and never like this.

“Do you understand me, Izzy?”

She couldn’t speak, her voice frozen somewhere in her throat. He shook her so hard her neck nearly snapped.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, Deacon. Yes.”

He leaned into her, bracing her against the wall again. The smell of alcohol churned her stomach.

“If I ever even suspect you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you. Do you know how I’ll remind you?”

Isabella nodded, hoping to somehow stop his attack, but the back of his hand came across her face in a hard flash. She nearly fell, but his hold on her arm held her up. Before she could blink away the stars, the sound of her nightgown tearing filled her ears.

*****

“You did what?”

“I didn’t re-up. I had to re-enlist two months ago, and I didn’t. My contract is up officially on Monday. I think you heard me the first time, Alicia.” Luke spoke calmly from the entry into their living room.

“I heard you, but you must be kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You just decided to leave the Army without consulting me?” Alicia’s shrill voice carried across the room, and it tore at Luke’s nerve endings.

“I don’t see what there was for me to consult you about. This was my decision, not yours. You are going to have to understand that.”

“Understand? Understand! I understand I’m married to an idiot. You have a great career here.”

“A career I don’t want.” Luke made sure his voice remained calm compared to his wife’s screaming.

“After everything Daddy did for you? You’re going to stab him in the back like this?”

“I made it into the Rangers long before I knew you, or your father, existed. Colonel McGuire didn’t do anything for me I couldn’t have done on my own. You figured you were marrying a Lifer, right? Someone who would make Daddy proud? Someone you could rise to the top with? That’s not going to happen.”

“And what the hell do you plan on doing now?”

“We’re going to Maine. I’m taking on my part of the business.”

“Bullshit we are.” Alicia threw down her handbag. “We are not doing any such thing. I will not live in that backward, prehistoric, hillbilly dump.”

“Well, I am.”

She froze, and locked eyes with him. “If you leave Washington to go to that hell hole, I will not be with you. And you won’t come out of this marriage with a red cent.”

“What have I got to lose? There are no children. Not even a pet. The house belongs to the Army. Your father bought the car you drive, and you spend our savings as fast as I put it away. What the hell would I want?”

He moved from the doorway, and picked up the suitcase at the end of the couch. Luke planned on walking out the door and finally being free of his albatross.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She grabbed his arm as he walked by.

“I just told you.”

“You’re leaving now?”

“If you’re coming, I’ll wait twenty minutes for you to pack. But no more. I assumed you wouldn’t be going with me, so I already got all my stuff together.”

She slapped him across the face. He didn’t blink or flinch. Her hand rose to slap him again, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and froze it in motion.

“What are you so upset about, Alicia? You’ve wanted out for years, but wouldn’t do it because of Daddy. This was pointless from day one, and we both know it.”

“Then why did you marry me?”

“We may not love each other, Alicia, but I won’t be cruel.” She stared at him, her eyes glowering in rage. “Draw up any kind of divorce decree you want. You can have it all. Everything here. I’ve taken everything I want. All I will say is that I refuse to pay alimony. You haven’t needed a dime of mine, ever. Daddy takes care of you. Him and whatever man in uniform you’re screwing.”

He tried to walk away, but she wouldn’t release his arm. “I want to know why.”

“No. You had your reasons, and I had mine.”

“Why? Goddamit!”

He met her blue eyes, and saw nothing but contempt. Luke worried about hurting her, and it hadn’t been his goal. But now he knew he wasn’t. He was just messing up her plans.

“You are the polar opposite to a woman I loved with everything in me. I wanted to forget her, so I tried to forget everything about her. The way she looked, felt, and smelled. The way she was. You are everything she wasn’t. And no woman can be what she was.”

Without another word, he opened the front door and walked out. He tossed his single suitcase in the passenger side of the ten-year-old pick-up he bought with what was left of their savings. The door closed with a creak and a clank. Luke started up the old engine with a pump on the gas and a jiggle of the key in the ignition. Once started, she purred like a kitten.

He drove to the end of the driveway, and looked back one last time. Alicia stood in the doorway, watching him. She didn’t look upset anymore. She didn’t look sad.

She looked relieved.

Chapter Nine

“Mom, do I have to eat the tops of the broccoli?” Christopher asked. He pushed the remaining pieces of vegetable around on his plate.

“I would like you to,” she said gently but sternly. She offered a spoonful of rice to Lucia, who sat patiently in her high chair.

“He doesn’t eat his,” Christopher sulked.

“Your father is a grown man. He can eat, or not eat, whatever he wants,” Isabella answered. “Eat your broccoli.”

With a sullen frown, Christopher picked up a broccoli floret, stared at it for several seconds, then put it in his mouth and chewed it with a grimace. Isabella stifled her smile, and focused on giving Lucia another bite. Christopher could always make her smile, even when he didn’t mean to. At nine years old, he hovered between still being her baby, and wanting to be independent and strong willed.

They all jumped when the front door crashed open, and the sound ricocheted through the house. Lucia made a face, and started to cry. Deacon’s intimidating form filled the doorway. Heat rose in Isabella’s cheeks. She stood and wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Deacon looked from her to the children. Christopher slouched beneath his father’s black stare, and his eyes rounded. Lucia, still too young to understand the dark shadow in Deacon’s face, continued to wail. His lips formed a straight, stiff line and his nostrils flared as he sucked in air.

Holding his stare, Isabella lifted Lucia from the high chair, and touched Christopher’s shoulder. He stood up, and took his little sister from his mother. Sparking nerves skittered through Isabella’s stomach, immediately making her nauseous, and her skin prickled as a cold sweat covered her body.

“Chris honey, please take your sister upstairs and play with her in your room. I’ll be up soon to read with you.”

Lucia quieted once she was in her brother’s arms, and Christopher nearly ran up the back stairs to his room. Feigning calm, Isabella picked up the children’s plates, and went to the sink. The stoneware clattered together as her hands trembled, and she set the dishes down quickly. To hide the sign of her fear, she clasped her hands together in front of her. She heard him move across the linoleum, but didn’t look back. Deacon was obviously pissed about something, but he wasn’t talking. If she didn’t fuel his fire, he might let it die. With any luck.

“I’ll get your dinner. It’s in the–aaah!” Isabella yelled when Deacon took a fistful of hair and yanked it back.

Her back slammed into Deacon’s chest, and he pulled so hard her neck wrenched backwards. Her arms flailed as she tried to release the grip. Deacon jerked her head side to side. It forced her to stand on her toes to relieve the pain.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

Deacon pulled her against him, speaking close to her ear. “I warned you, Izzy. I told you if you ever defied me, you would regret it.”

“Deacon, please. What are you talking about?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Deacon shoved her towards the table, and forced her to sit down. He released her hair, and she rubbed her scalp with her fingertips. Her mind raced. With his weight supported on his hand, Deacon leaned over her. His eyes jumped, and a stream of sweat ran down his cheek.

“What did I tell you, Izzy?” Deacon hissed through a clenched jaw.

Isabella stared at him. The pounding of her heart silenced her. She’d never seen him this mad. Never. Isabella sat up straighter and tried to hold his gaze. Deacon’s mouth pulled tighter, exposing his teeth, and his hand slammed down on the tabletop.

“What did I tell you,” he demanded.

“You t-told me a lot of th-things,” she stuttered. “Which specifically are you talking about?”

Deacon grabbed a glass of fruit juice off the table and threw it across the room. It shattered against the opposite wall and Isabella jumped, shielding her face with her hands.

“Stop! You’re going to scare the kids,” she screamed.

He backhanded her. Her eye burned with pain and stars flashed in her vision. She leaned into the table, her blood rushing so fast and hot it made her dizzy. Panic rose in her throat, bitter and metallic. The heavy pounding of her heart against her ribs almost hurt.

“What did I tell you would happen if you ever tried to leave me?”

She didn’t answer immediately, and he grabbed her wrist, yanking her attention to him.

“Tell me!”

Isabella gasped when she looked into his face. Fire licked at his eyes, and burned her with their intensity. She stuttered around her words, and he shook her roughly.

“Y-you told me I would n-never see our kids again. You’d make sure of it,” she whispered.

“Damn fuckin’ straight,” he yelled. Spittle hit her cheek, but she didn’t dare move to wipe it away. “And what did I tell you would happen if I ever, ever found out you’d contacted that son of a bitch Mitchell?”

Isabella worried her hands together in her lap. What had he found out? What had she done to make him think any of this? She hadn’t called Hank in months, nearly a year. Not since Luke left the Rangers. Deacon doubled his fist, and slammed it down on the table. The remaining plates jumped and clattered. Fear immobilized her throat. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t get any words to come out.

Deacon stood back and paced between her and the sink. Silence filled the kitchen. Isabella heard Christopher and Lucia in the room at the top of the stairs. Lucia called for her, and Christopher assured her Mommy would be up soon. Tears burned her eyes, and rolled down her cheek, but she couldn’t move to wipe them away.

Deacon mumbled as he walked. It was beneath his breath, and she couldn’t hear all of it. He ranted about giving her everything, only to have her stab him in the back. Her infidelity was a slap in the face, and an embarrassment. The argument seemed to be with himself. How could she do this to him? How could she not care what it would do to him? Isabella held her breath and waited for him to turn the questions on her next. Her stomach twisted in painful knots, burning with churned acid, and every muscle in her body tensed into hard rocks.

He turned back to her, his fists at his waist. Deacon wiped the sweat from his upper lip, and pointed at her. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? I told you I’d know if you screwed around on me!”

Isabella’s jaw fell open. No words were there to defend herself with. They were trapped in her throat.

“Were you so stupid you thought you could hide it from me? Of course you were. What else should I expect?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked. Her mouth tasted of copper.

“The bank account, bitch.”

Isabella flinched at his booming voice.

“The one with thirty-thousand dollars in it. How much more did you think you needed before you tried to sneak off?”

Isabella shook her head. “No, Deacon. That’s a savings account for the kids. A college fund. You told me I could--.”

“Bullshit! Don’t sit there and lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

Once again, his hand came across her face. She felt her skin split, and her mouth filled with blood. Her heart stopped when she looked back to him. The look in his eyes told her more than she wanted to know.

“And I found the envelope for your cell phone bill today. You stupid bitch, you left it in the car. How long have you had the phone?” Isabella shook her head. “How long have you had the damn phone?”

Oh, God. I’m dead.

“Just a couple of months ago,” she lied. If he had any idea of the truth, that she got the phone seven years earlier, she would’ve been dead already. “It was a special offer, and I thought it would be a good idea. For safety reasons.”

“And who did you call on it? Mitchell? Huh? Did you call your old lover boy and beg him to take you back? Did you plan your getaway? Did you hatch some scheme to get those kids?”

Isabella shook her head. “No.”

Deacon hauled her out of the chair, his hand at her throat. Her back slammed against the wall, and she fought to breathe. Terrifying memories came back in a flash of the night he first began his cycle of physical abuse. Her body weight was supported by his fingers pressed into her larynx. Isabella kicked her feet to find something to stand on.

“I have given you everything a woman should want. I have worked my ass off for you, Izzy. What do I have to do?” His voice hissed against her ear.

The room grew fuzzy, and black spots danced in her vision. Her skin tingled and her lungs burned. Isabella tried to pull his hand free of her throat, but all strength quickly drained from her body, leaving her barely enough power to raise her arms.

Just as her consciousness began to slip, Deacon released her. With one last slam of her spine against the wall, his grip on her throat was gone and she slid to the floor. Isabella sucked in oxygen, coughing and choking with each breath.

Deacon walked away, ranting and talking as he moved. Isabella rubbed her neck, trying to see him through the burning tears in her eyes. She mentally called out to her children.

Get out! Get out of the house! Please, God, get them out of this house!

“I can’t even get a good screw out of you. Hell, the best sex we ever had was that first night. You didn’t fight me that night. You didn’t go to the bathroom and try to hide the sounds of your vomiting when we were done.”

Deacon came back to her, yanking her to her feet and hauling her to the nearest chair. He sat down in another chair and pulled it closer to her, Isabella flinched away when he leaned towards her.

“Do you remember that night, Izzy?”

She stared at him, unsure whether a sound would come out if she tried.

“The guy who sold me the Roofies said they’d make you more willing. He didn’t tell me they’d knock you out. But hell, I didn’t really care.”

“Wh-what?” she asked, not realizing the word had actually left her lips until she heard her own raspy voice.

“You really are a stupid bitch, aren’t you? Never figured it out, did you? That first night.” His lips twisted into a sadistic, contemptuous snarl. “You were putty in my hands once the pills kicked in.”

Oh, God.

He hauled her back of the chair, slamming her against the refrigerator so hard it knocked the air right out of her lungs. “What kind of wife makes her husband drug her to get sex?”

Isabella stared at him, wishing to God she could reach the drawer of steak knives just inches from her grasp. She stared into his face, reaching her fingers along the counter edge.

Just a couple more inches.

“What do you want from me?” Deacon screamed. “What do you want from me?”

Isabella looked up at him, rage filling her blood. He stood over her, fists clenched and drawn back. His chest heaved in exertion.

“I don’t want anything from you,” she choked. “I don’t want you, or anything you could ever give me. You took away from me the only thing I ever wanted.”

The back of his knuckles came across her face, sending stars in her eyes. Isabella collapsed onto the floor. Before she could defend herself, his steel-toed alligator boots slammed into her ribcage. Everything blurred. She had no defenses left. The blows kept coming, kept landing. Pain ripped her body apart. Through the red haze, she heard his raging yells.

Please, God, protect my babies. Please don’t let him hurt them.

A scream pierced her miasma of terror and brought her back from oblivion. She pushed herself up, and slipped on the blood-coated linoleum. Isabella rolled to her side, and her heart broke. Between her and Deacon stood her son, his arms spread wide in a brave attempt to shield her from Deacon’s assault. Christopher’s face was away from her, but she could see Deacon’s.

“Get back to your room.” Deacon’s voice rumbled and seemed to come from the depths of hell and the devil himself.

“No!” Christopher screamed.

Isabella fought to keep consciousness. “Christopher, please,” she begged in a barely audible whisper. “Please go back upstairs with your sister.”

Christopher held his ground. “Don’t touch her,” he screamed at his father.

Deacon’s fists flexed open and closed, and his eyes bore down on Christopher. Tears poured from Isabella’s eyes, and despair washed over her. Deacon took one step forward, and Christopher responded. He rushed forward, and slammed his small body into Deacon’s stomach. The force pushed him back to the counter. Tears streamed down the boy’s face, and he assaulted his father with his fists, screaming all the while.

Deacon shoved the boy aside, and Christopher fell to the floor. Deacon’s eyes seemed to have doubled in size, and shock registered through the enraged contortions of his face. Before Chris could scramble to his feet, Deacon was gone. He went out the back door, and seconds later, his car screeched down the driveway.

Isabella tried to move again, but pain pummeled her body, and she crumpled against the wall. She looked to her son. He sat with his knees drawn to his chin. His small shoulders shook with sobs.

“Christopher,” she whispered.

Immediately, he was with her. Rather than she comforting her son, her Knight in Shining Armor knelt beside his mother and held her head in his lap. Consciousness slowly disappeared.

“Christopher,” she whispered once more before the darkness overtook her.

Christopher picked up the phone off the floor a few short feet away. He fought his tears and stroked his mother’s bloody hair. With a shaky hand, he pressed a speed dial button with a name written next to it. A sob shook him, and he put the phone to his ear.

The phone rang three times before it was picked up. “Uncle Jack? Please come. I think he killed her. I think Mama is dead!”

*****

Jack heard a soft moan from Isabella’s bed, and immediately jumped to his feet. She blinked against the light over her head, and he turned it off for her. What he saw made his stomach flip. Her left eye was swollen closed, and a deep gash ran along her cheekbone. Deep purple bruises covered her face, with round bruises at her throat. Black hair matted with dried blood, and a white bandage was wrapped around her head.

“Is that better?” he asked.

She nodded, and swallowed. “Where am I? Hospital?” Isabella’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Yes. You’ve got several broken ribs, and a concussion, along with numerous bruises and cuts.”

She tried to push herself up. “Christopher? Lucia?”

He gently pressed her back into the mattress. “They’re fine. They’re at the house with Christine and the girls.” She seemed to relax. Jack leaned into the pillow, and used his hand to shield her eyes from the remaining light. “Do you remember what happened?”

She nodded against the pillow, and tears streamed down her cheek. “Dear God,” she cried.

Jack swallowed against the dread in his throat. “Christopher said Deacon did this.”

She looked away from him, and didn’t respond. Tears squeezed through the swollen flesh around her eye. Her lack of response was enough confirmation for him. Anger surged through his temples.

“Has he done this before?” he asked. She still didn’t answer. “Isabella, has he done this before?” His voice was stern as his heart broke.

“Not like this,” she whispered. “Never this badly.”

“He’s hit you?”

She nodded. Jack looked at his twin carefully. Each bruise and cut burned itself into his memory. In his mind, he ran though the list of injuries the doctor had given him. Her body was bruised from head to ankle. She had five minor ribs broken, and her spinal column was bruised. The doctor didn’t believe there would be any permanent damage. Isabella’s unconscious state was closely monitored over the last six hours, due to the severity of the concussion. Jack sat by her side, and waited for her to wake up.

“Mr. McNeil?”

Jack turned to see a police officer standing in the doorway. He touched Isabella’s hand and left the room. Once in the hall, he pulled her door shut.

“Yes, officer?”

“My captain wanted you to know we have Mr. Brodhi in custody. We booked him on charges of assault.”

Jack nodded. “Thank you.”

Once the officer was gone, Jack stood outside Isabella’s room and watched her through the glass. She covered her face with a hand, and he saw her body shake with tears. His thoughts went back to the events earlier that night.

When he picked up the phone, he barely heard Christopher’s voice. In fact, he had almost hung up. But then the cries of his nephew came over the line. Please come. Mom is hurt. I think she’s dead. I think he killed her. He made the seventeen miles from Tulsa to Indian Prairie in record time. The image he encountered at the Brodhi house ripped his heart out.

As he approached the back door, he heard Lucia screaming upstairs. He burst through the door, and froze in his tracks. Christopher sat on the floor, with his back against a blood-spattered wall. The boy cradled his mother’s head in his lap, and he stroked her hair as he rocked back and forth. His clothes and hands were covered with Isabella’s blood. Through tears, Christopher gently whispered a song.

“Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so.”

Jack blinked back tears and wiped the moisture from his cheeks. Stealing his nerves, he stepped back inside the hospital room. Isabella looked up as he entered, and he smiled at her. He reached her bedside, and gently stroked hair from her face.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Who would have believed me?” she answered.

Jack pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, and took her hand. He stroked her skin, and noted the broken and jagged nails on her fingers. She fought back.

Isabella dozed off shortly after that. The medication given to her to take the edge off the pain made it impossible to fight off sleep. Once he knew she rested, he walked into the hall and out the Emergency Room exit. In the dry night air, he pulled his digital phone from his breast pocket. First, he called Christine to check on the kids. Little Lucia hadn’t come away from the night too upset. The worst she knew was being left alone.

Christine told him it took a lot of coaxing to get Christopher to sleep. He cried and rocked in Christine’s arms off and on. Chris had only been asleep for about an hour. Talking with his wife soothed Jack’s raw nerves, and calmed him enough to let him think.

He looked up into the night sky. They were too far into Tulsa to see the stars, but he knew they twinkled just beyond the lights of the city. Jack took a deep breath, and again fought the tears. They burned hot and forced their way free. He felt like an idiot. A beating like the one she lived through wasn’t the result of a first time attack. Deacon hit her before. Isabella told him as much. But how badly? How often? When did it start? Had he done it from the beginning? How blind had he been?

Jack paced the pavement, trying to figure out what to do. Deacon was in jail. He would be in there for two days minimum, when bail would be determined and probably posted. Isabella had to be gone, away from any danger. But where?

The what ifs drove him crazy. There were too many questions, and not enough answers. Some things crept in through the jumble of chaotic thought. This was why she hardly ever came to see the family. Why Christopher was so quiet. It explained some, but not enough.

Frustration ate at him. He took out his wallet to get money for a coffee. As he pulled out the bill, a business card caught his eye. Slowly, he pulled the card out and read the embossed lettering. Jack turned his phone on again, and dialed the number on the card. He hoped the recipient of the call wouldn’t be too angry at the odd hour. Eventually, the line picked up.

“Hello, sir. This is Jack McNeil. I need to speak with you. It’s very important.”

*****

Jack lifted the yellow police tape enough to slip beneath. The police escort followed immediately behind. After leaving the chambers of Judge McNamara, he came to the house of horrors.

Events of the night before assaulted his senses as he took in the evidence of Deacon’s attack. When he came before, the room around him had been a blur. But now, the sickening state of the kitchen hit him full force.

Dried brown blood spattered on the wall near the phone. Above the bloodstain was another stain in red, but not as deep. His eyes moved down the wall, and his stomach clenched. Pressed into the wallpaper was the perfect imprint of Isabella’s hand. Broken glass covered the floor, and a large pool of blood stained the white linoleum. Jack cleared his throat, and drove his hands into his pants pocket.

“I’m going upstairs to collect the things I need. I should be done in ten or fifteen minutes.”

The officer nodded, and Jack went up the back stairs to the bedrooms. As he moved about in the rooms, found suitcases, and filled them with things Isabella and the kids might need, he noticed something. At first glance, the house was meticulously clean. It was decorated stylishly, and in good taste.

But something occurred to him. In his home, Christine had their walls practically wallpapered with pictures of their girls. Family portraits hung in every room. And their refrigerator could not be seen for all the drawings and school papers hung on it.

In the Brodhi house, no such pictures existed. Not a single picture of either Christopher or Lucia hung on the wall. He didn’t remember seeing any drawings or papers in the kitchen. This house could have been a magazine snapshot for all the loving touches that didn’t exist. Was it because Isabella chose for it to be that way? Or Deacon?

Jack zipped shut two suitcases and carried them downstairs. The officer took the bags outside, and he went back up for a portable crib. Eventually, his minivan was packed with everything he thought Isabella and the kids might possibly need. The next step of his plan to move Isabella was complete.

Three days later, Christine and the children met him at the hospital in the middle of the afternoon. Jack came through the main entrance, and spotted his family sitting in the lobby. Christine held Lucia in her arms, who sucked her thumb and twisted Christine’s blonde hair in her fingers. The innocent 18-month-old was oblivious to the horrific events that unfolded with her just feet away.

In contrast, Christopher looked like a child ravaged by the demons of hell. He sat on the leather couch beside his aunt, his head bowed and his hands laced between his knees. Jack sighed and approached them. After he kissed Christine’s cheek, he ruffled Amanda and Shayne’s hair. Jack raised an eyebrow, and Christine shook her head. Christopher’s self-induced silence, since the night of the beating, had not been broken.

Jack crouched down to face his nephew, and nudged his knee. “Hey, buddy? How’re you doing today? Are you ready to go for a ride with me and your mom?” Christopher looked up, his brown eyes deep and sad. “Why don’t we go up and rescue her, huh? Would you like to see her?”

Christopher’s eyes brightened slightly, and he nodded. A genuine smile tugged at his lips. Jack and Christopher stood, and Jack put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“We’ll go up and get her. Why don’t you and the girls wait for us here?”

Christine touched his cheek, and smiled. “We’ll be waiting.”

Jack and Chris went to the elevator, and Jack let him push the button for the fourth floor. They reached her floor and walked down the hall. The closer they got, the faster Christopher walked, and the more urgent his pull on Jack’s hand grew.

Jack smiled. “She’s in room 412B. Do you think you can find it?”

Without hesitation, Christopher dropped Jack’s hand and ran down the hall. He stopped with a jerk, and rounded into one of the rooms. Jack slowed his pace. When he reached the room, he smiled. Isabella sat on the bed’s edge and showered Christopher’s black hair with kisses. When Christopher saw his uncle, he scurried away from his mother. Like most boys his age, he didn’t like to admit to other guys he still liked the tender affection of his mother.

Isabella looked up with a smile. She seemed in better spirits, and was ready and waiting for his arrival. Dressed in faded jeans and a pink shirt, she looked much younger than her twenty-eight years. A bandage still partially covered her forehead, but her hair camouflaged it, and the swelling around her eye had reduced considerably. Small butterfly bandages covered the cut along her cheek. Outside, she seemed to be healing.

Beside her on the bed was a clipboard. She picked it up, and finished signing the discharge papers. “I’m just about done. I need to drop these off at the nurse’s station on my way out.”

“Okay. Christine and the girls are waiting downstairs.”

Isabella moved to slide off the bed, but sucked air through her teeth and held her side. Jack moved to her, and helped her to her feet. She leaned heavily into him, and he kissed her hair, wishing he could transfer some of his strength to her. They took a step forward, and Isabella weaved.

“I think the Percocet is making my mind foggy.”

“That’s all right. We just need to get to the airport, and then you can sleep on the plane until we land.”

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” she asked once again. “Can I leave? With charges pending against Deacon?”

Jack nodded. “One way or another, I have the judge’s permission. She is aware of what I’m doing.”

“Oh, so she can know, but I can’t?”

“I think it’s better this way.”

They made it out of the room, and to the nurse’s station. The nurse at the desk immediately insisted Isabella sit in a wheelchair, and reprimanded her gently for attempting to walk so far. Isabella accepted without argument, and they headed for the elevator.

Once the elevator doors closed, Christopher broke into a string of sentences that would make an auctioneer proud. He told Isabella about the pizza they ate, and swore Lucia ate a whole slice. Christopher told her he got to watch Pirates of the Caribbean four times, and complained he had to sleep in the same room with Lucia and Shayne.

Isabella smiled and took it all in. She threw in a question every few sentences to keep him going. She was a good mom. No matter what went on, that he still didn’t know about, she was a good mom.

The doors opened again and they were back in the lobby. A happy cheer escaped Isabella’s daughter. Lucia's hand clapped, and she squirmed out of Christine’s arms to toddle to meet Isabella. With a wince, and some help from Christopher, Isabella lifted the vivacious child into her lap. She was met with several wet, sloppy kisses in quick recession. Mother hugged daughter, and squeezed tightly.

“Oh, I missed you, too, Pumpkin.”

They went out to the waiting van, and Jack said good-bye to his family. With Isabella and her children loaded in, they headed for the airport. The whole way Christopher showered him with questions from the backseat. Jack figured this was the price he paid for having three days of silence from the boy.

“Are we really going on a plane, Uncle Jack? A big one?”

“Yes. A 747. They’re pretty big.”

“Does it fly fast?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like you’re riding in a car.”

“What about when it lands?”

“It’s like a bump.”

“Is he coming?” Christopher’s sudden change in tone, from excited to solemn, surprised Jack. He looked to his sister.

Isabella shook her head. “No, Chris honey. He’s not coming.” She moved her head so the boy couldn’t see her, but Jack could, and mouthed the name Deacon.

By the time they reached the airport, Isabella’s eyelids hung heavy over her black eyes. Jack managed to have a wheelchair brought to the van, and they boarded the plane almost immediately. Isabella was completely asleep before the attendants finished bringing all the passengers on board. Her sleeping left him to answer all of Christopher’s questions. He only fell silent when the plane taxied, and the g-forces pressed him back into his seat.

In her incoherent state, it wasn’t easy to get Isabella from the plane to the parking garage at their destination. Twenty bucks here and there got him the necessary assistance to get her and the kids into the rental van. After consulting his map, and the directions given to him, he headed north out of Boston.

Dawn broke as he finally stopped. With tired eyes, he looked out the windshield to the quaint house outside. Warm light shone through two front windows, and the front door stood open in anticipation of his arrival. He glanced back at his three sleeping passengers, and slipped out his door.

Jack was met at the door with a hearty handshake, and a cup of hot coffee.

“Thought you’d need this after the drive. Were the directions all right?”

Jack nodded. “Yes, sir. They were fine. Once in awhile I thought I might have taken a wrong turn, but no problems.”

“Well, we should get those children inside, and into a proper bed. I’m putting them in one bedroom and Mom in the other. Think that’ll be fine?”

“If not, she can work it out with you. I can’t stay.”

“I see. Headin’ back this morning?”

“I don’t want to be missed. I’ve got a lot of things to take care of in the next few weeks. Is he here?” Jack’s question was ambiguous, but his companion seemed to know whom he referred to.

“Nope. He had his commitment this weekend. He’ll be right along, though. He doesn’t know, by the way. I reckon there was no need to bring it up ‘til needs be.”

Jack nodded. “Thank you again, sir, for your graciousness in this situation. I think this is the best thing, for both Isabella and the children.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Jack hesitated. “She’s hurting, bad. And not just physically. I think that’s all I can really say. I’ll leave the rest to her.”

Isabella moaned slightly when Jack lifted her out of the passenger seat. He never realized how slight she was until he carried her to the second floor without effort. Jack laid her down on the bed, and pulled her sneakers off. With a final kiss on her cheek, he left.

Chapter Ten

Isabella blinked against the bright sun that shined on her face, warming her cheek. She turned her face toward the heat, staring over the edge of her blanket at the distant window. With Herculean effort, she tossed back the soft quilt that covered her, and sat up. She swung her legs off the side of the queen-size bed, and rubbed her forehead to try to shake the groggy feeling in her mind.

As the fog cleared, she looked around the room. Isabella couldn’t remember much that had happened after leaving the hospital, only brief flashes of an airport, a plane, and headlights of oncoming traffic.

A beautiful quilt sewn in a design she couldn’t name draped the bed. Her fingertips rubbed the soft cotton. Its faded, velvety feeling gave the impression this quilt had covered many beds over the years. Something about that made her smile.

Smooth, vertical slabs of wood made the walls in a light, natural hue. Through a single window on the far side of the room she saw lush, green treetops. The hint of a masculine, woodsy scent hung in the air, and it calmed her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. A warm, comforting feeling existed in the room. It made her feel good, and safe. Isabella wondered if maybe this was a bed and breakfast of some kind.

She stood up slowly. The ache in her spine and ribs made it difficult to move with any speed. Her temples throbbed from the waning effect of the Percocet. She didn’t like how the strong painkiller made her feel. It made the lines between reality and dreams fuzzy. In her stocking feet, she shuffled to the door and stepped outside.

The beauty of the building amazed her.

Isabella stood at the railing of a loft in a very large cabin or lodge. Directly in front of her, but across the open expanse, was a row of small windows. They spread across a distance of at least thirty feet to give her a view of the trees beyond. Below the balcony was a long hall, with doors leading into closed rooms. To her right was a huge room with a fieldstone fireplace and a heavy beamed ceiling. The room opened to a full two stories high.

She looked behind her. There were two other doors along the balcony. One on either side of the room she came out of. When she walked by the first one to get to the stairs, she saw it was a small bathroom. Isabella descended the stairs, and turned left away from the great room.

As she walked towards the kitchen, she passed an open door and glanced inside. Christopher slept on a small bed, his arms spread wide at his side, and beside the bed was Lucia’s portable crib. Isabella crept inside and peeked over the edge. Her daughter was sound asleep. Some of the tension that had knotted in her chest on waking waned some. Not wanting to wake them, Isabella slipped back out of the room and headed for the kitchen.

A wood-burning stove sat on one corner. The delicious scent of brewing coffee drifted to her. Beside it sat a stout wood box filled with fragrant chunks and blocks of kindling. On a low cabinet, that seemed to serve as counter space, sat a plate of fluffy biscuits. Their enticing aroma mingled with the coffee, and her stomach rumbled.

The sound of a door opening brought her attention around. Isabella turned towards the noise, her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the edge of the counter to stay on her feet.

“I picked up all the parts for the skidder and the International on the way home from the airport, and I bumped into a Husquevarna Salesman at Agway. He’s coming up some time next week to show us some of their new saws.”

“That’s great, son, but I need to talk to you about something.”

Isabella stood stock-still. She couldn’t breathe. The pounding of her own blood in her ears was a near-deafening crescendo. Her lungs burned, and her eyes stung with hot tears.

It was a dream. It had to be. Some twisted, cruel effect of the Percocet. Any minute she’d wake up.

The years had changed him, and yet he was the same. His jaw line was stronger, and a day’s unshaven stubble darkened his chin and cheeks. The nineteen-year-old soldier was now a man. The short cut of his black hair accentuated the strong features of his face. Dressed in blue jeans and a dark tee shirt, with a flannel shirt open and hanging loose around his slim hips, he looked incredible. He carried a large box that he set down on the table. The rumbling timbre of his voice filled the room when he spoke.

“The hardware store was out of axle grease, so they’re ordering that for us. It should be in by the end of the week. Merle will call us when it comes in.”

Hank shoved the box away. “Will you stop yammerin’ for a minute, and let me tell you something?”

“What’s the matter, Dad?”

Isabella’s heart hammered against her chest. She finally released her breath. “L-Luke?”

*****

An unseen fist clutched Luke’s heart, painfully seizing his chest. His spine straightened and his head snapped away from his father to search out the source.

It was her.

Isabella stood just across the kitchen, staring at him with wide, dark eyes. Black hair hung around her shoulders, framing her face. A face that hadn’t changed in ten years.

The head gasket in his hand slipped free of his fingers and fell with a loud crash to the floor.

Isabella’s eyes fluttered, and her knees buckled. He jumped forward, and before she was half way to the floor, she was in his arms. Her body was limp and light. Luke froze for a moment and looked down into her still features.

It’s her. What in hell is she doing here?

Then his mind registered the bandages and the bruises on her face and throat. The feelings that filled him were a tumultuous combination of many things: rage, shock, curiosity, and a grudging dash of joy. Luke straightened and turned, with Isabella against his chest, and found his father. He couldn’t make his mouth speak.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you, Luke,” Hank Mitchell said with a shrug.

Luke turned and started down the hall. His father told him she slept upstairs, in his room. Not wanting to think about that fact, he took her up and laid her down on the rumpled quilt. There was no resistance in her limbs, and her pliant body slid from his arms.

Hank stood at the foot of the bed, and Luke turned to find him. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Jack McNeil called and asked if he could bring her here for awhile. He said she needed to get out of Oklahoma.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it’d be best to wait until she was here. Her brother was adamant this was necessary.”

“What happened to her? Why did she pass out? What’s wrong?” Luke fired the questions in quick succession.

He stared at the swollen bruises around her face, and the bandages covering worse abrasions. His fingers wanted to reach out and touch them, but something inside wouldn’t let him.

“Jack just said she was banged up pretty bad. He didn’t want to stay long, so he didn’t offer much in the way of details. I don’t know why she passed out. But Jack said she had a concussion, and she’s taking some strong painkillers. The mix must make her groggy.”

The cry of a small child came from downstairs.

“Who is that?”

“Her little girl. Her son, Christopher, is down there with the girl.”

Isabella stirred and her eyes fluttered. “Can you go tend to them, Dad? I think she’s waking up.”

Hank left the room, and Isabella rolled her head on the pillow, moaning softly. The little one cried out again, and Isabella’s eyes flew open as she tried to sit. A sharp wince crossed her face. Luke reached out and held her back with gentle pressure.

With his hands on her shoulders, Luke struggled to keep his thoughts clear. And most important, his anger. Isabella settled back into the pillows and stared at him, her dark eyes wide and glistening. A shudder moved through her body. Something clenched inside his gut, but Luke couldn’t pull his gaze away. Lucia cried again, and Isabella’s eyes darted to the door.

“Dad is looking after them. He’ll probably get them something to eat.”

Isabella nodded, and her eyes came back to him. Her silence troubled him. The depth of her black eyes seemed to reach into his soul. She skimmed his face with her gaze, and he felt the caress as intimately as a touch. Finally, he had to look away. Luke looked down at her stomach. The bottom of her shirt was open, and pulled apart enough to allow a glimpse of her caramel skin. A ripple tore through him. The involuntary reaction of his body to her pissed him off.

A chaotic turmoil of emotions ravaged Luke. He was in shock, first and foremost. Hearing her voice call his name, after so many years, made his heart swell suddenly in his chest. Seeing her collapse nearly ripped the swollen organ out. Holding her against him, and knowing she had slept in his bed, made his blood burn hot. Just as hot as the last time he touched her. A voice screamed in the back of his mind. It reminded him of her duplicity, betrayal and silence ten years before.

Isabella took a deep, shaky breath.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She blinked, and swallowed. Her hand fluttered in the air. “I–I’m having trouble. Can’t seem to wake up,” she mumbled. “Am I dreaming?”

“What are you taking for the pain?”

“Um, Percocet?”

Luke nodded, and fought the urge to stroke back the black hair that lay across her forehead. “It can make you muzzy, and fuddles with your mind. It’ll take a day or two after you stop taking it before that feeling goes away completely. Do you need one? Are you in pain?”

She shook her head, and the grimace on her face made it clear she wished she hadn’t. Isabella shut her eyes momentarily, and winced. “No. No more. I don’t like this–this–feeling.”

Luke nodded again, and looked away. He looked down his arm. His hand pressed into the bed beside her. The inside of his wrist just touched the skin of her side. The heat emanating from her flesh warmed his own. A shiver went through her body, and he looked back to her face. Her black eyes were locked on him.

“Are you cold? Do you want the window shut?” He stood and headed for the open window. “I like to sleep with the window open, for the night air.”

“You?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes. This is my room.” He didn’t dare look back at her.

“I didn’t know,” she said. “I don’t remember arriving. Didn’t know where I was,” Isabella mumbled in incomplete thoughts.

Luke shut the window, and walked back to the bed. This time he didn’t sit down. He didn’t trust his body enough.

“You didn’t know where you were going? That you were coming here?”

She shook her head slowly. “Jack wouldn’t tell me.”

Luke scowled. There were far too many missing pieces in this puzzle. And someone was going to have to explain soon. Why wouldn’t Jack tell her he was bringing her here? Why bring her here, of all places?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better. Go back to sleep, Isabella. Dad and I will take care of the kids. What’s the baby’s name?”

“Luka, um, Lucia,” she mumbled. Her eyelids closed.

Luke moved silently to the door. He left her curled against his pillow, the quilt tucked beneath her chin. Her black hair fanned around her head, and the sheets looked bleach-white against the rich color of her skin. Delicate hands curled beneath her cheek. She looked good sleeping in his bed.

Luke scowled and pulled the door shut. He reminded himself she held the knife embedded deep in his back. Those stupid thoughts were going to stop right now. There was no place for them, and they didn’t deserve being entertained. With his hands shoved deep in his front pockets, he headed for the giggling voices in the kitchen. His father’s laugh mixed with those of the children.

*****

The house was quiet when Isabella woke later in the afternoon. She swung her legs off the bed, and only closed her eyes momentarily against the dull thud between her temples. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier. Listening for a moment, she heard nothing in the house, and decided she should go find her children.

Before standing, Isabella picked up the pillow she used. She held it to her nose, and inhaled deeply. The manly combination of VO5 shampoo and aftershave filled her senses, just as it had while she slept. Knowing it was his bed she slept in sent chills through her. Reluctantly, she put the pillow down and stood.

Her suitcases were in the corner of the room. After rummaging through them, she found a change of clothes and a pair of boots. All the while, her heart pounded in her chest like a bird caught in the grasp of a giant.

She couldn’t believe she was actually here. With him. This had to be the cabin he always told her about. But from what she saw earlier in the day, this place was nothing like she imagined. Luke said cabin, and she pictured rough log walls, and maybe a single room inside. This was a home. The floors were smooth, carefully laid wooden planks, and the walls a slightly lighter color. All the ceilings were high, with visible beams. It all gave the cabin an airy, open feel. Multi-paned windows filled the home with light. It was luxury disguised with rustic charm.

The hallway opened up into the great room she saw from the balcony. The fieldstone hearth commanded attention on the outside wall, and a red plaid couch faced it. A patchwork afghan draped the back of the couch. Off to the side of the room was a small table with two chairs. On the table was a chess game in progress.

A short hallway extended from the other side of the room. At the end of the hallway was a screen door leading outside. On the right was another door for a room built into the corner of the great room. She headed down the small breezeway, and glanced into the room as she passed.

It was an office, with two wooden desks facing each other. Isabella assumed one was Luke’s, and the other Hank’s. Pictures hung on the wall, mostly of Luke and some of other men in various stages of lumberjacking. She saw a picture of Luke holding up his high school diploma framed with a picture of his Ranger graduation. Luke smiled widely in the high school picture, and his smile made her smile. Near the pictures hung two framed diplomas. Both were from the University of Maine. >From her vantage point, she read Luke held a Bachelor’s degree in both Environmental Studies and Business Management. Both certificates were dated in June, only weeks before.

She pushed open the screen door and walked outside. A long, deep farmer’s porch ran the length of the cabin. Isabella looked back at the cabin, and saw the business sign hung near the entrance.

Mitchell and Son Specialty Wood Products

Christopher’s laughter brought her attention to the yard. He stood at a paddock, his bottom feet on the lower fence rail as he leaned over the top with a fistful of hay. A pinto gelding gingerly took the hay from his hands. The boy was filthy from hair to sneakers. Isabella’s heart warmed, and her eyes welled up at the sound of his laughter. It had been a long time since she heard her son laugh like that.

Luke stood next to him. His arm hovered unseen behind Christopher’s back. He didn’t touch Christopher, but let him take the initiative to reach out to the horse. The arm was there, if needed.

“Lay your hand flat. He’ll take the hay with his lips,” Luke instructed as she walked up.

Christopher saw her first, and motioned with his hand to come closer. His eyes were wide with wonder and sheer little boy happiness.

“Mom, look! I’m feeding Sam. He’s Luke’s horse. He’s a real Mustang,” he blurted out. “Luke said I could ride him some time. Is that okay?”

Isabella smiled. “That’s fine. As long as you’re not a pest about it.”

She glanced at Luke, and her breath caught short. His eyes were cold, his face emotionless. Luke’s lips formed a straight, thin line. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Watching Christopher, he rocked back on his heels.

“Can I go in the barn and see the chickens?” Christopher asked. They both nodded, and he disappeared.

“He seems to like it here,” she managed to squeak out, her throat dry. “He’s always liked animals.”

Luke didn’t acknowledge what she said, and turned away. He strode across the large lot that accommodated three skitters, a semi with flatbed, and two pick-ups. His walk was jaunty and stiff.

“Luke,” she called after him.

He turned back, his blue eyes sharp. She felt them bore into her. “Yes?” His voice was polite, and flat.

She was a fish out of water, fighting to breathe and live. Isabella held her hands out away from her side, palms up. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know where to start.”

His expression didn’t change. He just looked at her with icy blue eyes. One shoulder came up in a slight shrug. “I don’t want you to say anything. It would be pointless now. Anything you have to tell me should’ve been said a decade ago.”

Isabella said nothing. Anger simmered beneath the surface of her skin, churning her stomach until it felt like molten lava rolling inside her body. A huge part of her wanted to tell Luke Mitchell to go straight to hell. But just as she had for the last ten years, she buried the emotions. Pushed them down. Hid them. Forced them into silence.

And she knew Luke didn’t deserve her anger. The man who deserved it was thousands of miles away. Deacon Brodhi took her dreams, her life, and her joy. And he took them with a lie, making her believe she had betrayed the one man who ever loved her.

And now...now it was too late.

Chapter Eleven

The next several days were unbearably long and uncomfortably tense in the Mitchell cabin. Lucia was thankfully oblivious, but Isabella saw the nervous tension in Christopher’s expression. Her son’s watchful eyes followed her wherever she went, and wherever she was; she knew he wouldn’t be far away. Ever protective. Christopher had seen too much, heard too much, not to pick on the apprehension and hostility that sparked like electricity from Luke to Isabella.

Isabella’s body tensed, and her breath caught every time Luke entered the room. She braced herself against the inevitable glance that would sear its way through her.

She did her best to avoid him, not wanting to spur his resentment any further. She knew he didn’t want her here, and didn’t need to see the hardened set of his jaw and the irritated furrow of his brow to know it. Yet, he still stirred everything inside her. Secretly, she anticipated the opportunity to see him. Her pulse quickened and a warm flush swept over her whenever he was in the room. She could sense him before he was there. When he passed near, his woodsy, male scent clung to the air.

Luke left the cabin early in the morning, before any of them even thought about waking up. Most evenings he wouldn’t return until late, well after their hired men left and the children went to bed. Hank commented his son was working longer hours than usual, so she assumed it was done out of avoidance. The man that once swore his undying love now couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her.

Isabella felt less fear and apprehension about her reflection in the mirror as the days passed. The long cut across her cheek closed neatly, and the swollen bruises reduced so she no longer appeared out of proportion. The last of the Percocet finally left her system. She rested better, and didn’t feel as muzzy and disoriented as when she first arrived in her secluded hiding place.

She told Hank the bruises and injuries were from a car accident, and assumed he passed the information on to Luke. She knew Luke asked his father if he knew their source, and hoped the lie would be the end of the discussion.

She also hoped the nastiness and antagonism would decrease as the days passed. But Luke’s mood grew darker and darker. Isabella barely saw him, and when she did, it was by accident. Hank apologized for his son’s uncharacteristic actions, but she assured him she expected no less.

Isabella insisted, after the first night, that she take a different bedroom. Luke mumbled she was a guest, and thus should have the largest room. He took the bedroom next door to avoid uprooting anyone else in the house. No matter what his preference was, Luke was adamant he would not make his father climb the stairs. Isabella saw Hank Mitchell wasn’t moving with the same speed as ten years before, so she argued no further about changing rooms.

Each night she climbed into his bed and buried her face into his pillow. Isabella relished in the trace scent of his shampoo embedded into the down feathers. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the silence of the house, and waited for his return. When he finally snuck in, she held her breath and listened. As he moved around in the adjacent room, Isabella tried to ignore the images in her mind. Sometimes she heard the shower come on, and go off minutes later.

One night, she was sure he stopped outside her door on the way to his own room. She held her breath so long her lungs hurt before he moved on again. After the shadow passed, she realized hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Oh, how she wanted him to come in.

Six days after her arrival, Isabella and Hank sat in the great room playing chess. The children were in bed for the night, exhausted after a day of playing in the crisp mountain air. Isabella was shocked when she heard the porch door and looked to see Luke come in so early in the evening.

He said nothing, but sat down on a bench near the low-burning fire. In his hand was a leather bridle. Hank attempted, unsuccessfully, to pull him into conversation. Luke’s responses were monosyllabic, and more guttural than comprehensible. He never looked up from the leather and chrome headstall to glance in their direction. Isabella feigned interest in Hank’s last move, but instead watched Luke from the corner of her eye.

The fire’s auburn light played across the chiseled lines of his face. It danced like magic in the blackness of his hair. In the dim radiance, she saw the dark stubble covering his chin. Shadows highlighted the indentation there. Isabella took in a choppy sigh, and forced her eyes away.

Hank made one more attempt at conversation, but Luke stood abruptly and stalked out of the house. Isabella lifted her head to watch his retreating back, biting back a surge of tears. She turned a watery smile to the elder Mitchell.

“Thank you for trying, Hank. You’re sweet. But I don’t begrudge him.”

“He doesn’t know the whole truth, does he, missy?” Hank held her stare with honest and wise eyes. “Does anyone, but you, know the truth?”

Isabella looked to the door Luke just left through. She sighed, and it drained all energy from her limbs. “No one that’s talking.”

*****

Luke returned the bridle to the barn and went back into the cabin through the kitchen door. He hoped to avoid both his father and Isabella. Picking up a biscuit off a plate on the counter, he stared at it before setting it back down. She made the biscuits from scratch, and they were some of the best he ever tasted.

Tonight he tried. The bridle didn’t need any work, but it was an excuse. He really tried. But he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. Luke hated how his body betrayed him every time he looked at her. His mind would drift to thoughts of her coal-black hair, and the soft curve of her hips.

Luke went to bed late, hoping the fatigue would override thoughts of her. But it was useless. Isabella was the first thing on his mind every morning.

For the last five nights, he lay in the strange bed, no more than fifteen feet down the hall from her where she slept in his. Once, he found himself smiling at the thought of her pilfering his bureau to find a tee shirt to sleep in. He thought about the worn cotton of his shirt lying against her naked flesh. Then he tossed back the blankets and paced the length of the room until the painfully hard evidence of his thoughts faded.

Anger came again. How many nights had he spent at eighteen thinking about her lush body and silky hair? Wondering what it would be like to hold her all night and wake up with her in his arms? Where had those dreams gotten him? Alone with a world of hurt in his heart, that’s what. His body didn’t know what his mind had known for years, and it pissed him off. But his body made a strong argument every time the ache in his groin was painful enough to wake him.

Tonight he wanted to be cordial, at the least. Despite it all, she drew him. He wanted to make sure she was okay. The bruises prevalent on her face when she arrived had faded, but they still concerned him. Hank passed on her story about a car accident, but something didn’t let him believe it. More than once he saw her cheeks pale, and a pained look wash over her face, when she moved. What kind of injuries didn’t he see?

Tonight he pretended to work on a perfectly good piece of tack so he could see for himself how she was.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and suppressed a smile when she executed a strategic move against his father and giggled at the gruesome face Hank made. Luke remembered teaching her that very move when they were sixteen. Immediately, the image of a sultry young girl leaning over the table to examine the game pieces filled his thoughts. She rested her arms on the table and gave him an unadulterated view of breasts swelling out of her yellow tank top. Even at sixteen, she had a body that could kill.

It was in the middle of the erotic reminiscence his father chose to ask him a question. He focused harder on the headstall and managed to choke out an obligatory response. The sheer essence of her presence finally became too much, and he left to escape it.

Now he sat on the front steps and nursed a lukewarm cup of black coffee. Luke waited for the house to fall quiet so he knew she was in bed. He couldn’t take another dose of Isabella tonight. The almost constant ache was getting on his nerves.

Behind him, he heard the screen door open and bang shut. Luke looked back at a bleary-eyed Christopher as he padded across the porch in his bare feet. Chris yawned wide, and scratched his head.

“What’re you doing up, Champ? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Had to go,” the boy mumbled, and flopped down on the steps next to Luke.

Luke chuckled at the boy’s black hair. It spiked out in all directions. “How would you like to go for a ride with me tomorrow? There’s a place a little way down the mountain I bet you’d like.”

Christopher’s eyes popped open. “Can I ride Sam?”

“Sure.”

“Can my mom go?”

Luke looked out over the yard, and hoped to avoid answering the question. “There used to be an iron works on this mountain. They still have some of the kilns and other buildings. You can even stand inside some of them. There’s a river you can fish in, too. Do you like to fish?”

“Do you and my mom not like each other?”

Luke avoided looking at the boy. “Why do you think that, Champ?”

“Because ever since we got here, you act like you hate her. If you come in she gets all tense, and if she comes in you go outside.”

Observant boy. “Your mom and I knew each other a long time ago, Chris. Before you were born. I guess you could say we had an argument, and we haven’t talked very much since.”

“Did she do something to make you mad?”

“Something like that.”

“She used to get him mad all the time. But he never left. He’d yell and throw things at her until she cried.”

Alarms went off in Luke’s head despite Christopher’s calm expression, and the way the boy stared out over the quiet yard at nothing in particular. “Him who, Chris?”

“Christopher, please come inside and go back to bed,” Isabella said from inside the screen.

Both Luke and Chris turned and looked at her, and her son pulled himself up.

“Si, Mama.”

Isabella pushed the door open for her eldest child to come in, and rumpled his hair as he went by, but her gaze never left Luke’s. She let the door shut in front of her and crossed her arms over herself, looking at him through the mesh.

Luke’s chest hurt with the heavy weight in its center. Their stares held for what seemed like years, but when she looked away, it had only been a flash in time.

“Good night,” she said simply.

He watched her follow her son into the house, and cursed under his breath. Well, hell! Just having her stand so close, with those dark eyes on him, was enough to start his pulse racing. Luke tossed the remaining dregs of coffee out onto the lawn. She looked beautiful and almost ethereal standing there, with the soft glow of the lamp backlighting her hair. But she wasn’t an angel. She was...something he had no name for.

Luke stood and walked to the stable. To relieve the oppressive tension in his body, he hefted all the bales of hay stored in the upper loft down into the feed room. For over an hour he grunted and sweated, heaving the seventy-five pound bales from one end of the structure to the other. When he finished, he was physically exhausted and his mind moved on to other things than the living fantasy in the house.

He entered the cabin through the living room, and all was silent. The fire burned down to red embers, and the chess game was set back to starting position. The door to his father’s room was shut and he knew Hank Mitchell would be out for the night, having the extraordinary gift of sleeping through anything. Luke pulled himself up the stairs, and yanked his damp tee shirt over his head as he walked into the bathroom.

He entered the warm, humid space and his breath caught in his chest. The wonderful sensation of being enveloped in the very essence of Isabella McNeil wrapped around and through him. The air hung heavy with the feminine fragrance of her shampoo and body wash mingled with the quintessence of her own scent. A clean bouquet of Gardenia and Magnolia intermingled with the soft fragrance he always recognized as her.

The heat of her palm bored a hole straight into him, and a small spasm raced through his body. “Not just any woman could create this kind of chaos in me. Only you.”

Her eyes stared at the back of her own hand where it pressed against his chest, as if she could see his heart pounding beneath it. “So why did you stop?”

“Bella, you deserve better than this. Probably better than me, too.”

Isabella shook her head adamantly, her eyes immediately locked on his. “That’s not true.”

The smell of her hair filled his senses, and the tantalizing fragrance of her skin heated his blood beyond the boiling point. His body screamed to be inside that sweet heat and let her surround him.

“Please Luke. Make love to me tonight.”

Luke stopped his kiss, and buried his face into her black hair at the sleek bend of her neck. He fought to calm the ragged, fast pace of his breath. “God, you don’t know how much I want to, Bella. You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to.”

Luke took a ragged breath and let the damp steam seep into him. “God, how long I’ve wanted to.”

The door swung open behind him, and the cooler air outside hit his bare back with a gust. He spun around, and Isabella gasped. His gaze fell on her, and she jumped away, her spine slamming into the doorframe. A pained grimace flittered across her face, but disappeared almost immediately.

Luke was immediately irritated. Lost in the memory of that night, ten years earlier, it all seemed real for just a few second.

“I’m sorry. I was coming to clean up,” she told him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to shower.”

“I just didn’t want to leave anything behind.”

“I said don’t worry about it,” he snapped and she visibly flinched.

A warning screamed in the back of his thoughts about the way she flinched away. He looked back at her, unable to restrain the action.

She was dressed in a simple, and what would usually be unflattering, pair of sweats a minimum of two sizes too big for her. But on her, they might as well been made of sheer lace she looked so tantalizing and inviting. Her black hair hung shiny and straight down her back, with her face framed by soft wisps. Rosy cheeks from the hot shower flushed deeper under his gaze. Black eyes looked away, and she turned out the door.

“Why didn’t you have the decency to tell me yourself?”

The question was out of his mouth before he had the chance to consider it. To wonder whether he really wanted to hear the answer.

Isabella stopped short. Her hand rested on the doorjamb. She took a shaky breath, and bit on her bottom lip. “What?” she asked.

“I asked why you didn’t have the decency to tell me you were marrying another man yourself.” He bit the question out; knowing full well the edge of his voice was harsh.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to, Luke.”

“Probably as many times I waited when mail call came, hoping for a letter. As many times as I called your house to be told you weren’t there, or couldn’t come to the phone. Were you with Deacon Brodhi every time I called?”

“No.”

His blood boiled with ten years of hurt and anger. It was a dangerous mix with the mammoth desire coursing through his veins. The simultaneous existence of all the emotions at one time sent him over the edge, and he glared at the woman who caused him so much pain.

“So you refused to talk to me, and made your family lie to me. Did I mean anything at all to you?”

Her head turned and her eyes snapped to meet his. “Of course you did. How could you ask that?”

He stepped towards her, clutching his tee shirt in his fists to keep from lifting them in anger. “How could I ask that? You threw me away like last week’s leftovers.”

“You meant everything to me,” she whispered quietly. “Please, Luke. Don’t do this. I’m so sorry for what happened. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry. But don’t do this.”

He ignored her plea. “I can’t believe you could still stand here and lie to me. There was a time I thought I could tell you anything. And, I believed your word to me was as good as gold. I don’t know how I was so blind for so many years.”

She shook her head slowly and turned away from him. With heavy feet, she headed towards the stairs. Her shoulder rubbed along the wall as she walked as if it were the only thing holding her up. But he wouldn’t concede, now that the rage was released. The uncontrollable force erupted from him.

“I have to give you credit. You were a great actress. You had me convinced through and through. Everyone else too, I think. We all thought you were something you apparently weren’t. Miss Go-to-Church-Every-Sunday-and-wouldn’t-say-shit-if-she-had-a-mouthful-of-it screwed around and got herself knocked up.”

He followed her down the stairs into the living room. She kept her back to him, and he ignored the flinch of her shoulders every time he spoke. Her steps got faster when they hit the bottom of the stairs. He caught her arm and spun her around to look at him.

“What was I that night? A release for your libido? I thought I would’ve been your first lover, just like you would’ve been mine. How many were there before that? What kind of things did you do that none of us knew about? How long were you and Deacon Brodhi lovers? Before I even left?”

Isabella’s eyes sparked to life. “He was never my lover.”

“The real kick was to find out from Jack. On your wedding day, no less. At first I wanted to go back and wring Brodhi’s scrawny neck, but then I figured he wasn’t the only guilty one.”

“It wasn’t like that, Luke.”

“Oh? How was it, Isabella? How long did you wait until you screwed Deacon? How far along were you with Christopher when you married him? Were you pregnant before I left?” Her wide eyes looked at him with surprise. “Didn’t know I knew that part, did you Izzy? Oh, yeah. I know the truth. Brodhi knocked you up.”

“You don’t understand. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking her head, still backing away from him.

“I understand perfectly. Oh, I see it now. That’s why you were so eager that night. That’s why you begged me to make love to you. Then you could’ve pinned the baby on me. Makes perfect sense.” He followed her into the great room, keeping on her heels, with his fists bunched at his side.

He didn’t know where the words came from. Deep down he wanted to stop because he knew he was hurting her. But they came like water through a broken dam.

Isabella gasped, and tears poured down her cheeks. Her fist pressed against her heart and she stared at him in shock.

“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “No.”

“Speak up, Isabella. You’re not doing a very good job of defending yourself. Come on, give it a try. Tell me how long you waited before you fell into the loving arms of Deacon Brodhi and lured him between your sexy thighs. How long was it before you forgot about me?”

“I never forgot about you!” Her voice was louder than he expected. “I could never forget you. I’d have to be dead, and even then, I wouldn’t. I didn’t want Deacon. I didn’t!”

“How can you stand there and say that to me? The proof of what you did is sleeping in the other room. How can you stand there and tell me you didn’t make love to Deacon Brodhi?”

“Never. I never did. I was never unfaithful to you and I never made love to him.”

“Liar!” His fingers dug painfully into her arms and his other hand grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. “Is this whole trip here some game you’re playing with him because he wouldn’t buy you some bauble? Or maybe to escape a jealous lover you have on the side? You’ve been here nearly a week. How bad are you hurting for a man right now, Isabella?”

Her hands pushed desperately against his wrist, trying to make him release her. She recoiled, and slammed her fists against his chest. “Hijo de tu chingada madre!”

Isabella calling him names fueled his rage. Who was she to throw out names? Both hands clutched her face, and he held her roughly against him. Her hot tears ran down her face and over his fingers, but he was oblivious to the trail they left across the back of his hand.

“I think right now you’re wishing you were back home with Deacon-Darling so you could seduce and cajole him, huh? With women like you any man will do.”

Before she could protest, his lips came down ruthless and hard. Luke expected to drive his point home with the cruel kiss and walk away, finally free from his demons. It was meant to punish her for all the pain she caused. But when his lips touched hers, a weight like a wrecking ball dropped from his head to his feet. He nearly buckled at the knee from the effect. His breath sucked from his lungs, and his blood suddenly came alive with the fire of passion, not anger.

She stumbled back away from him, and clutched the back of the couch. Isabella gingerly touched the bruised corner of her mouth. Luke saw the pain in her eyes, and something inside him snapped. It was an earth-shattering epiphany. If he truly hated her how could the touch of her lips run him over with the force of his own skitter? Why was his skin burning and all blood in his body suddenly heading south? He stepped towards her and reached out his hand.

“Isabella.”

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” She turned away from him and moved mechanically towards the door.

Despite her demand, he stepped forward and reached out to her again, touching her arm. She spun around, her fists clutched at her side and her teeth clenched.

“El me violo!” she hissed loudly through her locked jaw. “You know nothing about any of it.”

Luke’s mind worked for the English translation of her outburst. When it formed, his gut churned inside out. His hand still on her arm, he choked out a response.

“Raped?” As the words left his tongue, bitter bile filled his throat.

Isabella pressed her eyes together and clutched her knuckles to her mouth. He felt her body buck and her knees give way, and he reached out to support her. She cringed away from him and turned, running out the door.

Luke stood affixed for several moments before reality slapped him across the face once more. He ran to the door and burst out onto the porch, frantically looking around the yard. A figure moved behind the stable and headed directly into the woods surrounding the lot. Panic filled him. She couldn’t go into the forest, not this late at night.

*****

The fallen branches and pinecones that littered the forest floor dug deeply into the bare bottoms of her feet, but she didn’t care. She had to get away. Had to stop the pain in her heart. He thought no more of her than Deacon did. Maybe she was exactly what they both believed.

Stupid. Incompetent. A liar and a whore.

Isabella couldn’t see in the dark, but she continued to run. An aboveground root snagged her foot, and she hit the ground with a grunt. All the wind rushed from her lungs, and she gasped against the sharp pain that shot through her side like a thousand needles. She choked against the shock, and tried to push herself up off the moss carpet. In the blink of an eye, he was beside her.

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered and prayed he would let her sink into the soft moss and disappear. She jerked away, but crumpled in pain.

“Did you hurt your ankle?”

She shook her head. “Just leave me alone.” Isabella tried to brace herself against the breath-stealing pain each time she pulled in air. Her ribs were ripping her lungs apart.

He gave her no warning and allowed no further argument. In a fluid motion, he swept her up off the ground in his strong arms and headed back towards the cabin. She gasped at the change of position, and kept her body rigid. If she relaxed, she would press against the bare wall of his chest. Despite her wish to ignore it, the feeling of his exposed chest and the faint dusting of springy black hair, burned through the fabric of her sweatshirt. Isabella focused on calming her breathing against the pain. If she took short, quick breaths it didn’t seem as bad.

Without effort, he mounted the porch stairs and kicked open the screen. Isabella prayed all the noise wouldn’t wake the children. They shouldn’t witness anything going on that evening. Her son had already seen enough. Luke carried her to the second floor, taking two steps at a time, and carefully deposited her on his bed.

“Did you break your ribs?”

She couldn’t answer him, trying desperately not to let the physical contact fog her mind. Isabella clutched at her ribs and took shallow breaths.

“Bella, did you break any ribs? I need you to answer me.” He crouched in front of her with his hands on the bed at each hip.

She finally conceded to answer with a nod. “Five. Some others were just bruised. They’ve been fine until tonight. I hurt them when I fell.”

“I need to see,” he stated and took hold of the bottom ribbing of her sweatshirt.

“No!” Beneath the sweatshirt, she wasn’t wearing anything.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I’ve got to look.”

She stifled a cry as he pulled the sweatshirt over her head. Isabella tried to cross her arms over her exposed breasts, and her cheeks burned hot. She prayed to God she could just fade away. All she could do was curve her spine forward, as far as the pain would allow, to hide her body from him.

Luke moved to her suitcase, and rummaged haphazardly through it. Coming back a minute later, he helped her put on a soft cotton bra, keeping his eyes averted, and began the work of removing the clumsy bandage she put on after her shower.

Isabella avoided looking up as he knelt on the bed beside her. He unwrapped the dressing that circled her small frame several times. She hid her face with her hair. Ashamed and embarrassed, she felt small spasms jerk her body and her stomach quivered so violently she was afraid of being ill. With her hand over her lips, she rocked forward and back, not even realizing she was doing it.

His fingers barely whispered a touch on her shoulder. “Stop moving, baby. I’ll be done soon.”

She snatched her breath and froze at his touch. Isabella didn’t dare breathe as he removed the final loop of fabric. His hands stopped mid-move, and a low rumble like a growl escaped him. With eyes pressed tight together, she fought the panic rising in her throat. His palm pressed against her back along her spine and she knew what he saw. She caught a glimpse of it herself in the bathroom mirror.

Imprinted in her flesh was the faded impression of a boot sole. The bruises had mottled to an ugly purple-green hue, but the impression was still very distinct and very easily recognized.

His hand moved from the mark and gingerly brushed some of the others she knew were there. He touched her shoulders, the backs of her arms and the curve of her waist just above the elastic of her pants. Tears burned her eyes and poured down her cheeks. She choked back a sob and fought a wave of nausea.

The bed eased up as he stepped off and left the room. She only let her eyes glimpse upward for a mere second and felt her heart drop.

Her body doubled over, and she buried her face against her knees, letting the jerky sobs rack her body as she rocked again.

Isabella nearly screamed when his hands grabbed her arms and forced her to sit up. His eyes locked with hers, and he held her wrists firm. His jaw was set and his eyes fixed, but he wouldn’t let her pull away. Slowly, he crouched in front of her, his eyes never leaving hers.

She felt a calm overtake her, and her shoulders dropped. His blue eyes were intent on her, but all anger was gone. Luke didn’t speak, his eyes examining her face. Isabella knew he carefully looked over each bruise and mark. She didn’t dare speak or move.

He released her and pushed hair from her cheek. “There was no accident,” he stated. “Deacon did this to you.”

“Oh…God,” she whispered hoarsely and lowered her face back into her hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You could have told me.”

She could only shake her head. How could she live if she told him the truth? It was horrible enough as it was.

“I would have come back for you.”

Her head shot up. She shook her head adamantly. “That’s why. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Bella, I loved you. I wouldn’t have cared. I would have taken care of you. Of Christopher. I would have taken him as mine.”

She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. Isabella knew then, just as he confirmed now, that he would have taken it all on. He would have let himself be burdened with a problem that wasn’t his own.

“I couldn’t face you. I could barely face myself.”

She looked away again, and he stood. His body weight pressed down again on the mattress, and his hands touched her once more. He quickly checked her ribcage for anything out of place before he wrapped it again.

“Didn’t anyone know what he did to you? The abuse? The rape?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know the whole truth of it until a week and a half ago. I thought I had done the unthinkable with Deacon. I thought I had gotten drunk and had sex with him. It was my fault–I had to deal with the consequences.”

He moved from the bed, and touched her face. “No. No, you didn’t ask for this.”

“Didn’t I? Don’t I? What just happened downstairs, Luke?” She couldn’t finish the statement around the lump in her throat.

Luke pressed his eyes closed and swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell someone? Anyone?”

“I couldn’t.” There was no other argument or defense within in. “I just couldn’t.”

Isabella shook her head, and dropped her chin to her chest. She was so tired. Luke stood, and helped her slip the sweatshirt back on. She barely felt his lips press against the top of her head before he eased her back onto the mattress. Isabella welcomed the heavy sensation of sleep, and soon she was oblivious to everything. A chair being dragged to the side of the bed didn’t disturb her. She didn’t feel the gentle touch of fingertips on her cheek. Exhaustion was a gentle sedative.

*****

“What’s been happening to you, Bella?” Luke whispered to her sleeping form, to himself. After he asked the question, he realized how easily her name passed his lips. Not Isabella, but Bella. The name she had always been to him. Before he'd denied using it, believing the girl Bella was gone. But now he realized it was right.

Minutes passed, and Luke’s eyes grew heavy. He straddled a wooden chair and leaned over to rest his forehead on his arms. Before sleep took him over, he heard a sound and was immediately awake again. Moving to the door, he realized the sound came from the children’s room downstairs. He left the bedroom and pulled the door almost closed behind him.

When he peeked through the door, Lucia stood in her crib with her arms flung over the side. As soon as she saw his face, her tiny hands reached out and she flexed her fingers in a plea to be rescued from her prison.

“Now, what are you doing?” he whispered. “First your brother, and now you. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

She clung to his arm as he lifted her from the crib, and her head immediately fell heavily on his shoulder. Her thumb was already in her mouth, and her soft baby hair brushed the notch of his throat. Lucia’s arm encircled his neck, and found the edges of his hair. He wrapped one arm around her body and supported her bottom with the other as he swayed in the dark room, lulling her back to sleep.

Luke looked over at Christopher. He slept on the other bed that occupied the room. The boy was lying on his back, his arms flung out wide and his chin pressed against his chest. He looked so much like his mother. So did Lucia. Pleasant warmth wrapped around Luke’s heart, and he turned his lips against the downy black hair of the precious child.

He fought it. He denied it. He wanted to ignore it. But he knew to his heart this felt right. This felt incredibly right.

Chapter Twelve

Luke tossed his pencil across the top of his desk and muttered a curse. It bounced, end over end, to land on a pile of purchase orders in front of his father’s chair. He leaned back in his own chair and raked his fingertips through his short hair, expelling his breath with a loud harrumph. He tried all morning to focus on his paperwork, but it was useless.

Saturday was normally his day to catch up. He worked on the Mountain during the week, so today was devoted to the paperwork side of the business. Up until last month, Saturdays were his homework days. Today he was barely holding his head above water, let alone catching up.

His thoughts wandered every time he tried to focus on his computer screen or the stacks of papers. His wandering feelings were varied, but held one thing in common: Bella.

Sometimes his mind reminisced about all the times he watched her dance. He usually sat in the corner of her private studio and took it all in. Even then, his desire for her had grown more and more each day.

Then he remembered her face when he boarded the bus for Basic. Bella looked so sad. “I will always love you. Remember that.” She said it again and again until he promised he would.

Like a brutal tidal wave, the previous night rushed at him. How he viciously grabbed her face, threw cruel words and accusations at her. He crushed her delicate mouth beneath his in his selfish need for retribution. A quake moved through his body when he remembered how hard that kiss slammed into him. It set his nerves on fire and stole his breath away. But what had it done to her?

Luke thought of her face. Her eyes had been wide with fear, fear of him. He never saw that look in a woman’s eye before. Never. Never again. His own actions repulsed and revolted him.

“He raped me!”

His mind didn’t want to believe such an ugly thing. He didn’t want to acknowledge she lived in hell for the last decade. She survived the most degrading of assaults, and managed to come out of it without hating the world. He knew if he had gone back and done what his heart told him to, he would have saved them both so much pain.

He knew it would be better if she were lying to him.

But he knew she hadn’t lied.

Luke had tried to look beyond the bruises and injuries when she first arrived. Acknowledging their source would make him face the reality of the last ten years. His stomach lurched and his temper rose every time he let himself face the truth.

Bella hadn’t forgotten him. She hadn’t willingly been with another man. And, she didn’t walk away from everything they were together.

He had.

The image of the boot print along her spine flooded his memory and fogged his vision. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes until they hurt, but the memory didn’t leave. Luke wanted to pound Deacon Brodhi’s face every time he thought of how that pissant, spineless bastard battered and bruised Bella’s slight body.

She was a mystery. Her eyes were afire when she stood up to him. And, she did stand up to him. Now that he thought about it, Luke remembered her coming back at him with as much as he threw. Then, she seemed ashamed and embarrassed.

There had been a time.

Yes, there had been a time when she didn’t move away from him. She held his hand without question, or the slightest reserve, when they walked at the mall or school. Bella used to let herself be pulled into the warm hook of his arm, held against his side. She rested her hand against his stomach as they spoke with friends, and they danced together too many times for him to even count. He remembered how she looked up at him through those sooty-black lashes, and laughed at his jokes. They used to sit on her bed together and talk about things that mattered and things that didn’t. He knew she never felt insecure or afraid to be near him.

And, when he kissed his best friend, she returned the kiss with equal passion–innocent, virginal passion that had neither been tamed nor released.

Luke shot out of his chair and paced the small office. Fists flexed into tight balls at his waist, and he fought down the growing hunger for her. He reached the wall and slammed the flat of his fist against it. Weary, he rested his forehead on his hand. God, he loved her. He could remember loving her even when it wasn’t ‘cool’ to like girls. He’d loved her when everyone teased him for having a girl as a best friend. His love had grown into a desire that he would have given anything and done anything for her.

So why hadn’t he?

“Luke?” his father called from the doorway. He looked over his shoulder and tried to put on a façade of control. Immediately his father’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

Luke stared down at his boots, his fists again at his waist. “It’s Bella.”

“Is she doing okay? I haven’t seen her yet today.”

“She’s resting. I told her to stay in bed until this afternoon. I promised we’d keep an eye on the kids.”

“Why is she resting? I thought she was feeling better.”

“She hurt her ribs again last night.” His father's silence demanded he continue. “She was running outside in the dark and she tripped. They were broken before she came, and the fall agitated them, but I don’t think they were broken again.”

“What was she running from?”

Luke had to avert his eyes to avoid his father’s stare. “Me,” he answered flatly.

Hank shut the door. He sat down at his own desk, his hands folded together. “Spill it.”

Luke sat down across from him, and related the rough edges of what happened. He hoped he didn’t sound as cruel as he knew he was. And he took care to leave out the hideous kiss. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a monster. Hank’s eyes darkened and the wrinkles in his forehead deepened when Luke described the bruises he saw.

“Dad, I don’t know what to believe. I don’t want to believe she’s been through this kind of crap for so long. The Isabella I knew wouldn’t have put up with it.”

“Are you sure? You used to tell me how uncomfortable her father made you sometimes. He was overbearing and strict. Maybe she wasn’t given a choice but to put up with it. Do you honestly think she’s making it up?”

Luke flinched at his father’s tone. He was sure his father didn’t care for his actions right now. But, then again, neither did he. Getting up from his chair, Luke paced. “What if - what if it was only a one time thing? What if—”

“Would it matter? Once or not, it’s not right.”

“I know that.”

“And I don’t think this was the first time he put a hand to her. I think that little lady has been living under a fist for years.” Hank stroked his beard. “Son, I’m going to tell you something I swore to Isabella I never would. But I had no idea what I was hiding. I’m kicking myself now.”

“Hiding?”

“Sit down.” Luke did as he was told, watching his father prepare himself to speak. “I’ve known for years things weren’t right for that girl. I feel guilty as hell now, seeing what it’s come to. I wonder how much more I could have prevented if I’d opened my mouth.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?”

“The first call came shortly after you were sent to Saudi. It was pretty late at night. I remember I was about to go to bed. I picked up the phone and didn’t hear anything right away. I almost hung up. But finally, she spoke. She must have been scared to death I’d hang up when I knew it was her.”

“Bella?”

“Yes. She told me she needed to know how you were, if you were okay. I told her. And as quickly as the call started, it ended. She hung up all sudden-like. All her calls were like that.”

“Dad, you’re talking in riddles.”

“She’s called me several times over the last few years. Sometimes it was as frequent as once a month, sometimes a year would go by. But the conversations were always the same. She asked about you – wouldn’t answer how she was doing – and always talked quickly and hushed. She hurried like she was worried about being found out. Usually, she hung up out of the blue.”

Luke leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. Something quivered in his chest and his heart did somersaults.

“I remember when I told her you were in Somalia. We didn’t know if you were okay or not at that point. She fought to keep from breaking down on the phone. I asked her then if I could tell you, because I always thought you should know, but she begged me not to. You’d just married Alicia. But I did send a note to her, and I told her you’d been shot and were fine.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know that now. But like I said, she begged me not to. She said she just needed to know you were okay. Once you moved up here to live, she told me she wouldn’t bother me anymore because she knew you’d be fine.” Hank shook his head, and Luke could see a troubled look behind his eyes. “I hadn’t heard from her since. Then Jack called and asked me to let her come here for a while. He didn’t go into details. Just said it was best if Isabella could get out of Oklahoma for a while. He left it up to me to tell you.”

Luke was agitated and frustrated, and snapped a pencil between his fingers. “I just don’t understand why she, or someone, didn’t tell me what happened. Things could’ve been so different.”

“Son, you told me once that she was the best friend you ever had. She knew you better than anyone alive. And you knew her just as well. You trusted her.”

“I thought that was true. That’s why I don’t understand why she didn’t come to me – tell me –” Maybe she didn’t think she’d have to. Luke’s heart sank, and his throat went dry. The realization slid over him like a dark shadow. My God, what have I done?

Hank stood and left the room with one last statement. “She has been making sure for the last ten years that you were okay. Apparently at risk to her own life. She’s doing for you what she’s always done. Isabella never stopped.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. A musical beep from his computer brought up his eyes. An Internet message from Jack faced him. Sitting up slowly, Luke pulled the keyboard towards him and responded.

JacMac: Hey there. How is she?

WoodMan: She’s resting.

JacMac: I think that’s what she needs. I hope you’re not too ticked off that I brought her up there without checking with you first.

WoodMan: At first, I was mad as hell. Now...

JacMac: Now what?

WoodMan: Jack, what the hell has been going on?

Brodhi put bruises all over her. She says he broke 5 ribs. How long has this been going on?

JacMac: Has she talked to you at all?

WoodMan: I’m asking you...

JacMac: I’m calling…

Sixty seconds later the phone rang, and he picked it up with a jerk. “Mitchell.”

“I couldn’t get into this online. Too complicated,” Jack explained from the other end of the line. “Luke, man, I’m just finding out myself the extent of what’s been going on with her. I don’t know how much information I can give you that you don’t already have.”

“She told me he raped her.” Luke snapped out the words, hating to say them as much as he hated to think them.

“The night of the beating?” Shock shook Jack’s voice.

“No. When she got pregnant with Christopher.”

Luke couldn’t make out what Jack said for the next several seconds. Either Jack put the phone down, or turned it into his shoulder, because his voice was muffled. He heard a crash and a string of Spanish curses. Finally, Jack came back to the line.

“You didn’t know?” Luke asked.

“No. I’m going to kill the son of a bitch,” he snapped, followed by several curses Luke recognized from the night before…that Bella had thrown at him.

“Why are we all finding this out ten years after the fact?” Luke asked.

“Christ, every time I think about it I get pissed off. I remember back now when I found out she was pregnant. I figured it out. Isabella didn’t actually tell me.” Jack stopped, and swore under his breath. “Shit. And I’m the one who told Deacon.”

“I want to know everything, and I mean everything you know.”

Chapter Thirteen

Luke stepped onto the porch as the afternoon sun sank down below the ridge. As he lifted his mug of coffee to his lips, he saw Christopher. The boy sat on one of the corral’s bottom rungs. He was on the inside of the enclosure, feeding small handfuls of hay and grass to Sam. The big Mustang nuzzled the boy’s shoulder each time his hand was empty. A pang of guilt hit Luke full force - the newest in a long string of guilty moments today.

He took a deep, resolving breath as he went down the steps and headed for the ten year old.

Luke leaned against the top railing over Christopher’s head when he reached the paddock. He swirled the remaining coffee in his cup.

“Hey, Champ. How’s it goin’?”

“Fine,” said the boy, feeding another few strands of hay to Sam. Christopher didn’t look up, and pushed the toe of his worn sneakers deeper into the dirt.

Luke looked out over the treetops and squinted. “I messed up today, didn’t I, Champ?”

Chris looked up at him, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

“I promised you we’d go down the Mountain today with Sam, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay,” Christopher mumbled and looked at the ground.

“No, it’s not okay. I told you I would and I didn’t. I got caught up on other stuff today, and I forgot. I apologize.” Luke slipped through the railing of the fence. He sat down in the dirt next to the boy. “I tell you what. Tomorrow morning, as soon as we eat breakfast, we’re outta here. We’ll make a whole day of it. I’ll even let you use my lucky fishing pole. Whatever you catch, we’ll eat for dinner when we get back. How does that sound?”

“Really?”

Luke smiled, and nodded. “Sure thing. And maybe, if we ask really nicely and be really, really sweet, we can talk your mom and little Lucia into coming with us. How does that sound?”

“Do you think she will?”

“She might, if you ask her real nice,” Luke suggested. “Do you think Lucia will like a ride on a horse?”

“Luka,” he said.

“What?”

“No, I mean Mom calls her Luka. Except when he’s around. Hey, that’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“You both have the same name. Luke and Luka. Cool.”

Cool was not the word Luke would have chosen for the full-force punch to his solar plexus. Luke tried to smile calmly, for the boy’s sake, and looked back at the lights burning through the windows of the cabin. “Yeah, Champ. It’s real cool.”

*****

Deacon tossed the few remaining articles of clothing behind him as he tore through the bitch’s bureau. So far, he found nothing that would be useful to him. He moved to the closet, and pulled out the boxes stacked along the shelf. Lids flew aside, and he roughly rummaged through the items in each. None of the boxes produced anything he considered worthwhile, so he threw them across the room. They bounced off the small bed in the corner, and the contents flew out haphazardly.

He left the bedroom and moved downstairs. Deacon tore apart every drawer and closet in the house. There had to be something, somewhere, that would head him in the right direction. Her parents wouldn’t even let him through the door, but he already assumed she wasn’t there. Izzy probably wasn’t anywhere in the Tulsa or Indian Prairie area. It would be too easy to find her.

Did she really think a restraining order would keep him away? Having him arrested was an interesting twist he hadn’t expected. It surprised him. And, he had to spend a night in jail. They actually put him in jail! All he did was put her back in line. She got out of line and it was his job to put her back in her place. And she had gone too far this time.

He finally hit pay dirt when he ripped apart the credenza in the foyer. Tucked in the bottom of one of the lower drawers was a small address book with an obnoxious floral cover. It was no bigger than four inches long. Deacon opened it and thumbed through the pages, skimming over the names of people he knew to be in her family.

“I’ve got you now, you bitch,” he mumbled as he stopped on a particular page.

*****

Isabella decided this mountaintop was the closest thing to Heaven. She spent the last hour lost in the trees outside her bedroom window. Never had she seen such greenness, or smelled anything so fresh and alive. The day was the warmest since arriving in Maine, and she relished in it. The heat was different here. The crisp air revived her. Here the air was fragrant and moist. It brought new life, and a rest to the demons that haunted her.

She watched a squirrel gather a variety of nuts and hide them away in the hole of a tree. A mother blue jay brought dinner home to her three babies, and scolded the squirrel when he came too close. Isabella counted at least eight different kind of trees based purely on the shapes of the leaves fluttering by. The breeze kicked up every few minutes to stir her hair and cool her skin, carrying with it the sweet fragrances of the forest below.

Yes, this was defiantly Heaven on Earth.

There was a soft rap at the door. The hinges creaked slightly. “Can I come in?”

Isabella fought down the tremble the mere sound of Luke’s voice created. She didn’t dare look in his direction, so she focused on the palette of colors outside in the sky.

“Of course” she managed to say in a small voice. “It’s your room after all. You shouldn’t even feel you need to ask.”

She heard the door close and the soft footfall of his boots as he moved across the floor. Isabella turned her head slightly, so she could watch him without him being aware. He stood near the foot of the bed with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. A familiar pang wrapped around her heart. It was a characteristic stance she remembered. In so many ways, nothing changed.

“Did you need something?” she asked. “I was just about ready to go downstairs and start supper.”

Luke rested a hand on the wooden footboard of his bed. “You don’t have to cook, you know. Although it is some of the best cooking we’ve had on the Mountain in years. But I can whip up a decent hamburger now and then.” He stepped forward, and Isabella felt a tangible change in the air. “In fact, I don’t think you should. You need to take it easy for awhile.”

Isabella turned back to the window again, unable to look at him any longer without tears coming to her eyes. She knew how a starving man felt. A starving man locked out of a delicatessen. The sustenance she craved was only a few feet away, but completely unattainable.

Since her outburst the night before, he spoke to her only once to tell her to stay in bed for the day. Luke came to the door of the bedroom, and spoke from the hall. He hadn’t even made eye contact, staring at the edge of the area rug on the floor.

The hostility in his eyes was gone, but she liked even less what she saw now. Now she saw pity. And she hated it. She hadn’t intended for him to ever know the truth. Pity wasn’t what she wanted.

Isabella shifted in the chair and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging her arms around them. The sharp twinge in her side hit before she could conceal the grimace.

“How does your side feel? It still hurts you?”

She fought back the tears, and swallowed against the lump in her throat. “They’re fine. I’m sure last night–I’m sure it was nothing.”

“I’d feel better if I could check them.”

She felt, more than saw, him step closer to her. “No, really. I’m fine.” Her voice choked and wavered, but she refused to look at him.

“Isabella.”

She turned abruptly and tried to hold his gaze, forcing a stern look on her face. “I want you to forget what I said last night.” Despite the quiver, her voice was firm. Isabella wanted him to understand she wanted no further arguments. “I shouldn’t have thrown that at you. It’s nothing you need to be concerned with. Just forget it.” She hesitated only a moment before continuing. “I’m going to call Jack tonight, and have him arrange a flight back to Oklahoma. It’s time I stop imposing on you and your father.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“I do,” she stated. “I’m going to make decisions for myself from now on. Luke, you didn’t ask for my children and me to be dropped in your lap. If I had known Jack’s plan, I wouldn’t have let him bring me here. The sooner I leave, the sooner you can get on with your life.”

His gaze met and held hers, but his voice dropped low, sounding thick when he spoke. “I don’t think that’s an option anymore. Now that—”

Frustration and shame mingled with anger, and it rose up in a flood. “Now that what? Now that you’ve found out what kind of man Deacon Brodhi is?” She heard the edge in her own voice, and dropped it lower. “You always knew what kind of man he was, and that didn’t change anything ten years ago.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and his fist clenched tight around the footboard until his knuckles were white. His lips were straight and tight when he spoke. “But it should have.”

“Don’t.” It was a plea, a demand, and a prayer.

Her heart couldn’t take it anymore. Silently she begged God to let him take her in his arms. Yet, she knew he wouldn’t. Her forehead dropped to her raised knees, and her shoulders sank with exhaustion.

“We won’t talk about it anymore tonight,” Luke said in a gravely, strained voice. “I’ll leave you alone for the night, if you’ll just let me check those bandages.”

She nodded weakly, giving in to ease the torment of having him so near and so far away at the same time. Slowly, she stood up from her chair. Isabella pulled her tee shirt up over her head. The sports bra she wore didn’t make her feel nearly as self-conscious as she had the night before, being bare and exposed to him. Luke took a deep breath, and then his hands pressed against her side. Her body tensed, not from any discomfort it caused, but just the opposite. Electric shivers raced through her.

“I’m going to take the bandages off. They were good after the jolt last night to help ease the pain. But they didn’t break again. I think you would be better off without them. Let the ribs get used to being on their own.”

She nodded, and held her breath as he worked the cotton away from her body.

“I broke seven ribs once. I know how it feels not to want to take a deep breath.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being in such pain. She’d only broken five. Seven must have been horrible. Luke removed all the wrappings and tossed the bunch onto the bed. Now his warm palms lay directly on her flesh, and Isabella felt ready to crawl out of her own skin. She flinched, but tried to disguise it by shifting from one foot to the other. The sensation of his rough, calloused hands created tremors and feelings she hadn’t felt in years. She was painfully aware of each finger as they touched her from the waist to the bottom of her bra.

“Did he break any of your large ribs? On the upper part of your ribcage?”

The strained sound of his voice grabbed her attention, but his firm hands remained steady, not letting her turn away. She nearly choked on her response, the assault on her senses overwhelming. Parts of her body, dormant for years, were suddenly alive and tingling.

“No, just the lower ones. My upper ribcage was bruised.”

He gingerly touched between her shoulder blades. “Do they hurt when I touch them like this?”

Isabella fought to keep herself from trembling beneath the gentle ministrations of his hand. She reminded herself, over and over again, he only did this out of pity. Maybe concern. But that was as far as it would ever go.

“No. They stopped hurting like that about three days ago.”

“Good.”

His hands moved from the bruises on her back to her shoulders, and then down her arms. The contact changed. The gently probing strokes moved to a caress. Palms ran from her shoulders down her arms, and stopped. Luke’s fingers wrapped around her forearm and squeezed gently.

“Luke?” She whispered his name and tried to step away, but he tenderly restrained her.

“Please, Bella, don’t pull away from me anymore.”

The whispered name nearly took her breath away. She froze in place, unable to breathe or move or speak. His voice was sad. Rough hands moved up and down her arms again in almost hypnotically slow motion. Isabella gasped when his lips brushed her bare shoulder. Short, soft hair tickled her cheek. Luke’s mouth hovered over her flesh, not quite touching. She braced her body against the shock. Slow breath warmed her skin.

When he spoke, the hum of his voice vibrated through her body. “Don’t hate me.”

She gasped and tried to turn. His arms encircled her and held her against his chest, not allowing her to see him. Luke’s face pressed into the soft slope of her neck.

“Luke–I could never –-”

“Shhhhh, please.”

She stopped trying to pull away, and forced the tension from her body. The more she relaxed, the firmer his hold on her became.

“Forgive me.”

Isabella tried to turn her head, but his face buried against her shoulder and his grip on her body was tight.

“What? Luke, what do you mean?”

“We all let you down, but I’m the worst. We should have been there for you. I should have been there for you.” Luke cleared his throat, and his fingers traced random patterns on her skin. “The way I treated you last night makes me no better than Brodhi.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. Don’t say that.”

“Yes.” He stood straight.

Isabella was shocked to see glistening tears. His gaze skimmed her face. Her heart broke when one tear rolled down his cheek. Luke’s finger touched her lips, and she fought to breathe.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t come for you. I knew you better than anyone in the world. You loved me as much as I loved you. You weren’t the kind of woman who’d want to be with Brodhi. Or do the things I accused you of and believed you did.

“But when I heard about Deacon, I was so angry I couldn’t get beyond my own selfishness to realize it. You wouldn’t have done that to me. You believed in the promises I made you. And you wouldn’t have walked away from me. Even if I hurt you. I was stupid not to come back. Especially when my heart told me to.”

Isabella couldn’t fight the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her heart nearly burst in her chest, and she couldn’t breathe. Slowly, she shook her head. Never had she wanted him to feel responsible.

“I never questioned why you didn’t come back.”

“No. I was wrong, and stupid, and selfish. Before I found out about – I felt something was wrong. My gut told me something was wrong. If I had just gone back—”

“Stop it, Luke.” Her heart broke, shattering like glass in her chest, each shard slicing its way through her. Isabella touched his face. “You had no reason to come back.”

“You were all the reason I should’ve needed.”

She tried to shake her head, but he held her face tenderly in his hands. Luke pressed his lips against her forehead, his thumb gently stroking the dampness from her cheeks.

“Listen to me,” she demanded. “I made the choice. I knew what would happen. It was my decision.”

Luke shook his head slowly, and sighed. A wry smile tugged the corner of his lips. “You’re just as stubborn as ever. Stubborn and independent.”

Isabella laughed. They both were stubborn enough to keep the argument going for hours. Both tried to relieve the other of blame. In the end, did it matter? Did it change anything?

“I thank God that He’s brought you back to me, and given me back my best friend,” Luke said

A hot tear hit her shoulder, and a shudder rocked her. She pressed her eyes shut against the burning tears. With Luke in her life again, she would need nothing else. Her arms curled behind his shoulders.

“I thank Him, too,” she whispered.

He pulled her closer. The embrace filled her with both need and longing. A need to bring back the last ten years, and a longing to live them all over again. His face turned into her hair and his arms held her impossibly tight.

Chapter Fourteen

“Now this is what a man should wake up to every morning.”

Isabella looked up, and her heart jumped to her throat. Luke stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He looked damn sexy dressed only in jeans, with his hair still rumpled from sleep. A tee shirt draped his shoulder, and his eyelids hooded blue eyes. Her eyes flicked over him quickly, and Isabella smiled at his bare feet.

Luke rubbed his stomach and took in a deep breath. “There’s no better alarm clock than the smell of brewing coffee and frying bacon.”

Isabella focused on getting Lu cia to eat her scrambled eggs and juice. But the dreamy look in his eyes, and the shocking effect of his bare chest, made her pulse pound in her temples. He ran his fingers through his mussed hair as he scuffed across the floor to pour a cup of coffee. Lucia giggled and bounced in her seat and he turned to her, immediately smiling.

“I guess I’m the lazy bones today, huh?” he said to Christopher.

Chris shoveled more pancakes and bacon in his mouth. “I got Mom up good and early. I told her we were gonna get goin’ as soon as breakfast was done.”

Luke’s eyes came up to meet hers. She froze, her hand half way between the bowl of eggs and her daughter’s waiting mouth. He smiled widely. There was a glint in his eyes, and she let out her breath. Last night wasn’t a dream after all. They were friends again.

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze not leaving hers.

“Good morning.” She took a breath, and tried to focus back on the toddler who patiently waited for her next mouthful.

“Well,” he said with resolution, and went back to fill up a plate. “Let me get some food in my stomach and we’ll be off. Have you talked your mom into going with us?”

Chris nodded, and spoke around the pancake shoved in his cheeks. “She said she’d go if we really wanted her to. She said she didn’t want to intrude on our guy time.” Christopher said it proudly, having never been able to claim something known as ‘guy time’. “I told her it would be okay if she came. But just this time.”

Luke chuckled, and ruffled the boy’s hair as he sat down with the three of them. “Well, okay. But next time it’s just you and me, Champ. Deal?”

Christopher nodded. “Deal,” he cheered and stuffed more pancakes in his mouth.

Isabella’s eyes misted as the two of them carried on an animated conversation. Christopher hadn’t been as happy in the last ten years combined as in the last few days. He finally had someone who would teach him things and to talk to him like a man, other than her. When he was smaller, it didn’t make as much difference that his father didn’t spend time with him. A young boy who only had his mother to depend on didn't think twice about being with her all day every day. But now that he was older, he needed someone to show him how to be a man. She didn’t want him to grow up thinking being a man was being Deacon Brodhi.

Isabella wished she could promise him this was the way it would always be. She knew Luke would be wonderful while they were in this deep-woods paradise. But they wouldn’t be here forever though. Once they left, it would be just her and her kids again. But today, it felt good to have Luke as her friend again. She didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.

She blinked at the tears. Isabella wondered where her strength had gone. Since leaving Oklahoma, she found herself crying at everything. In the last few days, she cried more than she had in the last ten years. Tears were a sign of weakness she never allowed Deacon to see. Suppressing her emotions became as much a part of her day as eating and breathing. If she wore her heart on her sleeve, her veneer of calm would have been shattered. If Deacon knew how scared she was, he would have been ten times worse. Acting was a prerequisite when it came to being married to a man like Deacon Brodhi. But here, where she felt safe and relaxed, it was harder for her to keep up her lines of defense.

Lucia finished her eggs and worked on her juice, content now to pick at a plain pancake. Isabella went to the sink under the pretense of rinsing out the small dish. She blinked rapidly at the hot tears and scrubbed without mercy at the innocent bowl. Behind her, Luke told her son to go get some last minute things. The chair scraped across the wooden floor, and Christopher’s sneakers ran a fast beat down the hall.

She wiped viciously at her cheeks and erased the two tears that escaped before Luke reached her. Isabella jumped when his hands rested on her shoulders, silently cursing the reflex. He didn’t pull back. Instead, he lightly squeezed them and spoke close to her ear.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Oh, sure. I’m fine.” Even to herself, her cheerful tone sounded forced.

His thumbs worked at the muscles in her shoulders. Isabella swallowed at the dryness in her throat. How was she ever going to stand this? The simplest touch from Luke sent sweet tremors through her body.

“Bella,” he said in his ‘you know I know you better than that’ tone of voice.

The tears burned hot again. So many memories came to mind. A voice from ten years in the past whispered to her. What are you thinking? Talk to me. The sweet sound of his voice speaking her name, the name created and solely used by him, made her heart pound. Isabella put down the dish and turned to face him.

“Thank you, Luke,” she said in a wavering voice. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Christopher.” She paused before finding the words to continue. “He’s never had a man to talk to, or do things with. Just me. The only man he’s ever spent fun time with is Jack.” Her words were coming out in a torrent, a jumbling mess of thoughts and emotions. “I know he’ll remember his time here for the rest of his life. It just means so much to me that you don’t hate him.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Luke laid a hand on her cheek. She looked up at him and stopped talking. “Bella, Christopher is a great kid. It’s not his fault that the man who’s biologically responsible for his birth is an asshole.” He said it with a smile. She smiled, too. “It’s not his fault, and it’s not your fault, either.” She turned away but Luke grabbed her arm. “Hey, I mean it.”

Isabella looked up, and no longer fought the tears. “I’ve missed you.”

Luke wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her side to side. Her cheek rested on his chest and she listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart. The hug felt good, and she smiled, breathing in his scent. Strong hands rubbed up and down her spine, and Luke pressed his lips against her hair. His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. Moments passed, and she relished in the feeling of being held in his arms.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

*****

“What kind of stuff is at this place, Luke?” Christopher asked. His voice came out in halted spurts as he bounced on Sam’s back. “What did you call it?”

“Katahdin Ironworks. Locals just call it K.I. About seventy years ago, it was a working iron mine. A whole town was built on this mountain around it. All that’s left now is one of the blast furnaces and a kiln. Everything else is gone.”

“Cool,” Christopher exclaimed. Luke was pretty sure Chris didn’t know what a blast furnace or kiln was, but he seemed excited.

Luke headed up the procession, leading the three horses along the narrow path up the mountain. He carried Lucia in front of him in something Bella called a snugglie. Behind him rode Christopher on Sam, and Bella brought up the rear of the parade. Luke smiled at the never-ending litany of questions Bella’s son threw at him.

“Is it hard to get to?”

“We could’ve gotten there in the truck, but I thought it’d be more fun this way. What do you think, Champ?”

“I like this better.”

After an hour of riding, they broke into a clearing. The open space merged onto a well-worn dirt road. A wooden bridge spanned the width of a river about a hundred feet down. It had no railings, but was easily wide enough to accommodate two vehicles side by side. The three steeds fell in together and strode across. Once on the other shore, Luke pointed off to the left to bring their attention to buildings standing about two hundred feet apart.

Both were made of fieldstone and mortar. One was a four-sided structure with a metal chimney extending at least twenty feet above the stone. In all, the building was a good thirty-five to forty feet tall. Each side had a half circle entrance in complete darkness. Luke explained this was the blast furnace used to melt the ore.

The other edifice was on the opposite side of the clearing. Half the height of the first, it was perfectly round. From this angle, they couldn’t see the entrance Luke knew to be on the other side. Christopher guessed it was the kiln, and Luke nodded in affirmation.

They hitched the horses to a railing set up along the road, and walked towards the blast furnace. Luke gave a brief history lesson as they walked. Christopher was amazed he knew so much, but he was only passing on the same speech his father gave him twenty years before. They entered the underside of the furnace through one of the arched doorways. Beyond the first was another doorway into the core of the chimney. Christopher climbed inside, and exclaimed he could look straight up to the sky. After seven decades of dormancy, the inside of the furnace still smelled of burned charcoal and metal.

When they moved onto the kiln, Christopher ran ahead and read the billboard outside. He pressed his face against the mesh screen that blocked the entrance to the interior of the kiln, and gasped in awe.

Christopher was so excited he ran from one building to the other, exclaiming how cool and neat everything was. Luke got tired just watching him. He carried Lucia on one hip as they headed back to the river and took Bella’s hand while they walked. It felt good and natural to walk with her.

He got Chris situated on a large rock at the water's edge, and showed him how to cast out the line. Soon, the boy was fishing as they rested on the grass.

Luke reclined back on the blanket. He leaned on one elbow to easily see Christopher at the bottom of the slope. Over and over, Christopher cast out and slowly drew the line in, just like he was shown. Luke knew he was determined to catch supper.

Bella put Lucia down on her stomach and managed to get the toddler to sleep. Luke pulled his eyes away from Chris and watched her for a moment. She was lying beside her daughter, stroking the baby’s back and humming softly. Bella caught him watching her, and her smile sent a warm wave over his heart.

She sat up, and moved away from the child to sit closer to him. Neither spoke, but the silence was comfortable. Just two days before the silence between them was harsh and cold. Luke could still feel a reservation and hesitance in Bella. He couldn’t blame her. Two days ago he...well, he didn’t want to remember what he said and did. But he wanted to understand.

“Can I ask you something?” he said finally.

“Anything.”

“The other night, I was talking to Christopher he said something about Deacon. But he didn’t say his name. Not even Dad or anything. Just him. I didn’t realize then who he was talking about, and asked him to explain. It was almost as if he couldn’t. Then you called him in.”

Bella nodded her head. “I’ve never heard him refer to Deacon as anything but ‘him’. I can tell who he’s talking about by his voice. It’s different when he’s referring to Deacon.”

“Why?”

“Deacon doesn’t talk to Chris, or Luka, very much. He’s never been an active participant in Chris’ life. Chris has no basis point for Deacon. Other than the guy who comes home and yells. It’s been like that, more and more, for the last several years.”

“Doesn’t Deacon pay any attention to him at all?”

“None whatsoever. I think he’s held each of them maybe twice. He’s never changed a diaper, did a feeding, or just cuddled with them. According to Deacon, that’s my job.” Luke saw sadness behind Bella’s brown eyes. “So, I don’t blame Chris for not referring to Deacon in any personal way.”

He felt revulsion and disgust at the few things she told him about Deacon Brodhi. Despite that, or perhaps because of that, he felt the need to know the entire truth. Every horrible detail.

Luke sat up and leaned his arm against his knee, turning his body towards her. At this angle, he had a perfect view of her delicate profile. He memorized her face as she watched her son on the water’s edge. She smiled at something Chris did, and he found himself smiling with her.

He touched the bare flesh of her arm with his fingertips, catching her attention. She turned to him, and his breath caught when the deep brown depths of her eyes connected with his. His heart skipped, and sped up in the same beat.

Luke swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “Will you tell me?”

Her gaze dropped away. She leaned forward, and hugged her knees to her chest. With her silence, he assumed she was trying to figure out what to tell and how to tell it. It would be tough, he knew. When she spoke, she kept her eyes away and looked out across the river.

“Do you remember calling me after you received your orders?”

“Of course I do.”

“It was that night.”

Bella took a deep breath before she continued, and he watched her square her shoulders–straighten her spine. She seemed to force the words out. With a steady voice, she gave him a blurry sketch. She told him Deacon followed her and caught her alone on the prairie. He gave her a drink, and after just a few sips, her mind became fuzzy. She couldn’t remember much, except that she woke up in her bed the next day and knew she'd had sex. She knew now, after what Deacon told her the night he beat her, that he had drugged her.

For the next several weeks, she avoided as many people as possible and lied to her parents to be left alone. Even when the evidence was there, she denied for a long time she was pregnant. Until Jack came home and figured it out.

Luke sat silent and listened. His teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached, and he felt a muscle twitch near his ear. But he didn’t interrupt. Once the words began, they seemed to come easier. Her voice didn’t seem as tight and forced, and she rocked slightly on her bottom

Bella turned towards him but kept her eyes away from his face, focusing instead on his hands. She told him how hard it was to refuse his next call–and the next and the next. In her mind, she believed if he heard her voice he would know, just know, what happened. That she wasn’t the same anymore. She had been too naïve to contemplate the idea that what happened had been beyond her control, and the shame had been suffocating.

To himself, Luke conceded although he may not have known the actuality of it, he would have realized something was wrong. He would have known she needed him. He couldn’t change the past–but things would be different from now on.

She kept talking. Once the words were free, they flowed endlessly. Once Jack realized the truth, everything was a chaotic torrent. Before she could explain herself, Deacon went to her parents and confessed to being the father. By the time Bella came in, all had been decided. She felt powerless to stop it. Who would believe her story at that point?

Lucia stirred on the blanket behind them, and Bella turned to pull her baby girl into her lap. She smoothed the tiny cherub’s hair and kissed her cheek. Luke watched Bella mother her child, and a band tightened pleasantly around his heart. He reached out and touched the toddler’s hair.

“He’s abused you and the kids from day one.” He didn’t have to ask anymore. It was a statement not a question.

Bella shook her head. “Physically, no. I think we had been married about five years before he hit me the first time. Looking back now, I realize the abuse was there before then. Verbal mostly. But once he started hitting, it escalated. He never touched the children, thank God.”

Luke made sure his voice held nothing but a question. No accusations. No doubts. “Why did you stay?”

Bella’s smirk was mordant. “For a long time I didn’t see what he did as abuse. I decided on the day I was married that I would do my best to make a whole life for my son. I thought staying with him was the only way to do it.

“But the first time he hurt me–bad–Deacon told me what the consequences would be if I ever left. If I ever left him, or filed for divorce, I would never see my children again.” Her eyes finally met his, and he saw strength beyond description behind them. “And he also made it quite clear he would file for divorce, and take the children, if he ever found out I contacted you.”

Rage simmered in Luke’s gut. He clenched his jaw, the muscles of his neck bunching painfully. That simpering, spineless asshole was lucky to be three thousand miles away.

“Eventually he started having women on the side so he left me alone after the first couple of years,” Bella continued, looking out over the river. “He stayed out late and came home too drunk and too tired to care what I did.”

“You had Luka.”

She nodded. “Luka was Senator Brodhi’s idea to increase his popularity with the family men. I’m sure he didn’t tell Deacon, ‘Go home and rape your wife until she gets knocked up again’, but that was Deacon’s interpretation. He came home one night and threw out all my contraceptives.” Bella sighed deeply before finishing. “About a year later I had Lucia.”

A sickening bile rose in the back of Luke’s throat. He tried to control the rage, clenching and working his thumb over his curled fingers. Luke stood, taking several steps away from the blanket to where the shore began its slope to the river. Rocks and pinecones littered the ground, and he picked up several, bouncing the weight in his hand. Looking out over the water, he tossed each rock with all his strength. After half a dozen stones, his shoulder ached, but he continued. Every time the water splashed with the impact, the inferno in his chest died just a little bit. Not alleviated, just lessened to a manageable level.

“I didn’t tell you any of this to make you pity me,” she said behind him.

Luke stopped mid-throw and turned on his heels to look back at her. She stared out over the river, not meeting his gaze. Although she appeared calm, he caught the way she clicked her fingernails, a sign of nervousness he had learned to recognize years before.

“I don’t want your pity,” she added. “And to be honest, I don’t need you to tell me how stupid I was to stay.”

Luke squinted up at the sun for a moment, contemplating where to go from here, and dropped the last rocks from his hand. Dusting his hands on his jeans, he went back to the blanket and sat beside her. Lucia squirmed in Bella’s lap until she could reach out and tug on his sleeve. He stroked the little girl’s hair.

“I’m in awe of you, Bella,” he finally said when the torrent of emotions in his chest calmed enough to let him speak.

She laughed, turning away from him to where Christopher fished. “Awe? How in the world could I possibly awe you?” Her voice was derisive and self-deprecating.

“Bella, look at me.”

She didn’t, keeping her eyes down to watch Lucia much more intently than necessary. Luke slid his hand across the blanket to touch her own. Her fingers curled away from the contact at first, and then relaxed, allowing the touch.

“Bella, look at me,” he said again, dropping his voice lower.

Finally, she did, but only through her lashes. She kept her chin down, and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. Luke reached out to touch her chin with the knuckle of his finger, gently urging her to raise her head and look him square in the face. He felt a tremble in her jaw as she took a shaky breath.

“I am amazed by your courage and strength. I always knew you had it, and I admired it in you, but I never realized to what extent until now.”

She knit her brow, and her eyes squinted. “Courage? Strength? For ten years I let that man do to me whatever he damn well pleased, control me, belittle me, beat me…and he did it because he could. I cowered. I hid. Hell, sometimes I even egged him on when I thought his attention was too much on the children. How is that courage?”

“You just said it, Bella. No matter what he did, he didn’t hurt your children. By all rights, you should hate the two children Deacon Brodhi forced on you. Hell, you should have become a cold, mean, depressed bitch. But the complete and unconditional love I see in your eyes whenever you look at Christopher and Luka is obvious.”

Luke seriously doubted he would have the same bountiful ability.

“They’re my children. How could I not love them?”

“That’s what I mean. Your capacity to love is stronger than whatever power Brodhi may have held over you.”

She smiled, but he wasn’t convinced her heart was behind it, and looked out across the river to the forest beyond. A soft breeze blew back her hair, and Luke smelled the scent of wildflowers and evergreens it carried. He watched her take in a deep breath and sigh. Her eyes closed and her face turned up towards the sun as the wind blew. Bella looked like an angel in someone’s fantasy. His fantasy.

“I just slipped into a dream,” she whispered.

An idea hit him, and he stood. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

She took the hand he offered, and he pulled her to her feet. Bella’s eyes found her son, and concern washed over her face. “Where are we going?”

“We’re not going far. We’ll be able to see and hear Chris.” He swept Lucia up against his hip, and the girl giggled.

Holding Bella’s hand and cradling the baby, he led her along the shore to a bend in the river. “I was about Christopher’s age the first time I came to this mountain. My dad did the same thing we did today. I walked down the river here to find a better place to fish. When I saw this place, it nearly took my breath away. It was that fall that my mom got re-married and moved to Oklahoma.” He stopped and looked down at her, smiling as her body moved closer to his. “It was that fall I met you.”

He led her forward, and she glanced back nervously. She seemed happy she could still see and hear her son. When she turned back to look ahead, she gasped.

“Oh, Luke.”

They stood at the top of a small hill, looking down into a valley that fell parallel to the river. The field was filled with wildflowers of every color, size and fragrance. Trees hedged the alcove on three sides. They stretched out and up another mountain ahead of them. The white trunks of random birch trees broke the never-ending sea of green.

Bella turned to him. Her cheeks were damp. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

“I knew you would remember.”

Chapter Fifteen

“I’ll try to make it, honey,” said the sweet, feminine voice on the other end of the line. “I really will, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to. Gosh, I’d really love to see you.”

“It’s been way too long.” Luke glanced at the door of the office. It was slightly ajar, and he worried Bella might walk by and hear his conversation. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, I’ve missed you, too.”

“It would mean a lot to me.” Luke did his best to sound pitiful.

There was a sigh and a giggle over the line. “Okay, okay. I’ll be there. I promise.”

Luke smiled wide. “That’s great. I promise you a big hug and kiss when I see you.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

He set the phone down and leaned back in his chair. Luke hadn’t felt this good in awhile, and now he definitely had something to look forward to. As he left the office, he heard the harmonious sound of dual laughter. It drew him outside, and he stood on the porch to watch the children play. Little Lucia chased her big brother on wobbly, dirty legs. Every few steps she fell into the dirt, and jumped right back up again. Christopher kept just far enough ahead of her to keep the game going, and he’d stop whenever she stumbled. Lucia nearly caught him when he turned and snatched her up and tickled her ribs through the cotton fabric of her short suit.

Luke chuckled hard when they both fell back into the soft hay near the corral, and Lucia threw it in her brother’s face with peals of laughter. Christopher sat up and waved across the yard.

“Hi, Luke,” he yelled.

Luke waved, and went back into the house. Behind him, he heard their game begin again with a squeal from Lucia. A soft, feminine hum overpowered the sound of the children when he reached the living room. A smile stretched across his face.

Bella and her children had been on the Mountain for almost a month. Luke readily admitted he liked, no loved, having them around. It gave him an oddly pleasant feeling to stand in his own house and hear children playing outside, and a woman singing in the bedroom.

The melody of the song was familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He thought it might be a hymn, but since he wasn’t one for singing old gospel traditionals, the name escaped him. Instead, he let it draw him up the stairs until he stood outside Bella’s door.

Her back was to him as she sorted a pile of clean laundry on the bed. He leaned against the doorjamb and enjoyed being a silent voyeur. She picked up a set of Lucia’s pajamas, and caressed the little blue bunnies decorating it as she folded it. Bella stopped humming as she placed the tiny garment on top of a pre-existing pile. It resumed again as she pulled out one of her own bras from heap.

Something stirred in his chest when she set the flimsy bit of lace with some other equally flimsy items. He was relieved when she picked up one of Christopher’s tee shirts and folded it the same way she folded Lucia’s pajamas. As if the simple articles of clothing were something sacred to her. Before laying the shirt down, she held it to her breasts, and sighed. She reluctantly set it down on the bed, her fingers lingering on it.

“What do you see?” he asked in a low voice.

She jumped and looked at him, smiling nervously. An embarrassed flush spread across her cheeks. “You scared me. How long have you been standing there?”

“Just a couple of minutes. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He pushed off the doorframe and stepped in. “What are you seeing when you look at their clothes?”

Bella flushed, and picked up a sweatshirt from the bed. She hugged it to her body, but not before he realized it was one of his own. He smiled, but the look in her eyes concerned him. She looked sad.

“I see them the day they were born. It just scares me sometimes how quickly they grow up. It was just yesterday I watched Christopher push himself up for the first time, and crawl across the rug to me. Now he’s almost a teenager. Lucia is still little, but she’s not a baby anymore.”

It grew harder and harder to resist the need to touch her. He reached out and brushed her cheek. Her gaze met his, and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

“They haven’t had much of a childhood. I want to make sure that they have a happy one from now on.”

He cupped her face with both his hands. “I have never seen a mother love her children the way you do. They are blessed to have you.”

She quickly brushed away a tear and went back to the laundry. “If you give me your laundry, I’ll be happy to do it for you.”

With a teasing grin, he took the sweatshirt she held. “It looks to me like you’re already doing it.”

Bella yanked it away from him and pushed him with her shoulder. “So sue me.”

She folded the clothing again, and he stayed in his spot just behind her. Luke silently took in every detail of her, from the shiny depth of her hair to the soft curve of her hips in the shorts she wore. He wondered if she had any idea how sexy she was. Her hair hung straight down her back in a long braid, but soft wisps escaped to frame her face and flirt with the slender column of her neck.

She wore a cropped halter-top under a short-sleeve blouse. The blouse was open but tied at her stomach just below her breasts. The resulting effect was a delicious glimpse of her midriff. Her shorts were too large, and the elastic waistband fell two inches below the indentation of her waist. If he leaned forward, he could see her bellybutton. The shorts hung softly over her hips, and fell only inches down her thighs so her entire leg was exposed. He noticed she now went barefoot whenever possible. The overall picture was tantalizing and sexy as hell.

Bella wasn’t the rail-thin ballerina from high school, but motherhood and maturity created an irresistible, delectably feminine woman. Her breasts would fill his palm and then some.

Luke shifted and cleared his throat. Bella looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, and his heart nearly burst out of his chest.

Turning on his boot heels, he headed for the door. “I almost forgot. I bought you something in town yesterday.”

“I didn’t need anything except the things on the list,” she said loudly so he could hear her down the hall.

He retrieved the box from his bedroom and came back, grinning. “When I was buying the diapers and stuff I saw these and thought of you.”

She took the shoebox from him and sat on the edge of the bed. Bella looked at him with humorous trepidation. “Shoes?”

“Well, the Knights of Columbus are having a dance at the Grange Hall Thursday night and I thought you might enjoy going. I already talked to Dad, and he’ll watch the kids with his lady-friend Audrey. And I figured you probably didn’t think to pack appropriate dancing shoes.”

Bella shook her head and grinned. She slid the top off the box, and gasped when she saw the boots inside.

They were Justin Ropers in a deep mahogany brown. A brown kilt covered the laces, and the boots shined to a high polish. In Oklahoma, Bella had refused to wear the typical pull-on cowboy boots most kids wore. Instead, she chose the lace-up style of the ropers. At seventeen, she had every color and leather type Justin made. She lifted one boot and held the toe to her nose, inhaling deeply of the tanned leather. Her eyes closed, and a smile spread across her face. Luke’s body warmed.

“I hope you’re still size seven.”

Her eyes glistened when she opened them, and she nodded in answer. “You don’t forget anything.”

He stepped close enough to brush her cheek with his thumb. “I like to think of it as remembering the important stuff.”

*****

Luke’s pick-up slid to a stop on the loose gravel outside Grange Hall. The large lot was already packed to capacity with every kind of transportation imaginable. There were new, king-size pick-ups like Luke’s to old, beat up rust heaps that had seen better days. A small amount of cars were scattered amongst the fray, and a variety of motorcycles finished the assortment. There was even a bobtail Kenworth parked parallel to the road.

Luke jumped out, and was around the front of the Dodge before Bella touched the door handle. As a true gentleman would, he opened the door for her and took her hand as she slipped out. The three-story building looked like a cross between a church and a barn, and already thundered with music from in side. Strings of white lights decorated the front, and stretched out to the electrical poles in the parking lot. With Luke firmly holding her hand, they headed for the door.

Bella smiled at the sound her new boots made on the gravel. It was so sweet of him to buy them. He had been wonderful the last couple of weeks, and she reveled in the joy of having him back in her life.

Several people waved and called out greetings as they approached the door. A thought struck her, and she grabbed his arm. Luke stopped short, and looked down on her.

“What? What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Luke, what are these people going to think?”

“Think about what?”

“About you bringing a woman to the dance? I mean, you know everyone, right?” She paused, choking on the next question. “Am I going to mess up anything for you?”

Luke turned fully to her, and he stood so close she felt his chest rise and fall. Her thoughts fogged in his masculine scent. His lop-sided grin made her blush.

“Are you asking me if I have a girlfriend?”

Her cheeks burned hotter, and she focused on the buttons of his white western shirt. “Well, yes.”

Luke’s head fell back and he laughed. His arm went around her shoulders and he pulled her against him, beginning the walk again to the hall. “If I had a girlfriend, do you think she would have let me live up on a mountain for a month with a beautiful woman? Don’t you think she would have made an appearance by now?”

“Are you teasing me?”

His lips pressed to her temple when he spoke. It wasn’t a kiss but it had the same effect on her. “Just a little.”

“So, is that a no on the girlfriend?”

They reached the door, and he managed to avoid the answer. It didn’t go unnoticed. But the atmosphere inside embraced her immediately. The interior of the Grange was decorated with multi-colored streamers and helium balloons, with more strings of lights. Four folding tables sat along the wall, covered with tissue paper tablecloths. Several plates of snacks and confections, and three huge punch bowls, filled the tables. An elderly woman stood at each table to hand out punch and napkins. Metal chairs lined two of the remaining walls. There was a slightly raised stage where a young kid managed the extensive electronic equipment. Music reverberated off the walls.

The ambiance of the hall was friendly. People greeted each other with handshakes and cordial embraces. The age range seemed to be from early twenties to late seventies. In the first few minutes after their arrival, Isabella heard The Dixie Chicks, The Pretenders and The Backstreet Boys. She returned to high school, and this was the Homecoming Dance.

Isabella felt good here. Even though she didn’t know any of these people, she liked them. Several waved to Luke, and smiled at her in welcome. Luke directed her to one of the refreshment tables, and she reached for a decadent-looking brownie.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Luke,” said the woman on the other side of the table. “Ernie and I were just saying this evening that we don’t see nearly enough of you and your father.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hutchins. Bella, this is Mrs. Hutchins. Her husband, Ernie, is a member of the K of C’s. Mrs. Hutchins, this is Bella McNeil. Bella is a very old and very special friend of mine from Oklahoma.”

Isabella noticed two things. The first being he called her Bella. Even when they were kids, he never used the name around anyone else. He said it was their secret. The second was he introduced her by her maiden name, not her married name.

Isabella took the hand Mrs. Hutchins extended. The warmth emitted by something so small and frail in appearance surprised her.

“Please, call me Emmaline. I’ve been trying to get Luke to use it for years but he insists on being so formal. Bella? That is a lovely name. It means beautiful, doesn’t it?”

“Well, my name is actually Isabella—”

“But you’re right, Mrs. Hutchins. It does mean beautiful,” said Luke, cutting her explanation short.

His fingers wrapped around her side and pull her closer to him. She tried to glance nonchalantly up at him, but found him staring down on her. His eyes held hers, and he smiled before he turned back to Mrs. Hutchins. Bella’s heart pounded and she thanked God he supported her because her knees were jelly.

When she looked back at Emmaline, the woman smiled. “You two are stunning together. And so obviously in love. Oh, to be young and in love again.”

Isabella’s jaw dropped, but Luke turned them and steered her away, giving Mrs. Hutchins a final farewell. “Dance with me, Bella,” he whispered close to her ear.

She looked up at him and knew she had a stupid look on her face. He smiled like a Cheshire cat, and swept her out onto the dance floor when she nodded in response. Isabella vaguely heard a soft ballad begin as he pulled her against him. Her mind tried to digest the few things said in the brief conversation with Mrs. Hutchins, but everything was foggy and unclear. His arms encircled her and pulled her to his chest. Enjoying it, she sighed and let her cheek rest against his shirt.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

She shook her head against him. “No.”

His chuckle thundered against her ear. “Well, you do.”

She laughed at herself and her dreamy state of mind. Isabella stood back and looked up at him, her smile earnest.

“Thank you very much.”

His grin was so wide, and his eyes so animated, Bella wondered what was going through his mind. He looked like a kid at Christmas.

“Are you up to something?”

Luke shook his head, but his grin didn’t lessen. “Nope.”

Isabella nodded slowly and squinted, not believing him for a moment. Luke must have seen the doubt in her face, because he lifted his chin and laughed.

The song ended, and immediately a pounding Latin beat thundered off the walls. Half the dancers on the floor stepped off, and moved to the tables and chairs. But the deep rhythm already worked its way into Isabella’s blood. She snatched Luke’s hand, and stepped against him. Drums and trumpets fueled her courage, and she looked at him through her lashes, purposefully dropping her lids.

“Do you remember how to dance, Luke?” she asked.

He smiled slowly, and Isabella almost crumbled beneath the heat of his gaze. She had her answer when he clasped their left hands together between their bodies. With the next downbeat, their dance began.

This was a pounding, vibrating, pulsating dance that coursed through every part of Isabella’s body. They didn’t miss a beat, swinging and twisting on the floor. Luke danced as her compliment, letting her do most of the work. As always, he was her perfect match. Her one and only dance partner. The chains of a decade fell away, and she gloried in the sweet sensation. By the end of the song, her lungs burned and her heart pounded against her ribs, but she never felt more alive.

The final crescendo hit, finding Isabella arched back over Luke’s arm, her hands resting on the parquet floor. The music stopped, replaced by the thunder of applause. Luke drew her up, supporting her against his heaving chest. She laughed through gasps of breath, and her cheeks burned hot. Self-consciously, Isabella looked around them. All in attendance stood around them, clapping and cheering.

In answer to a silent prayer, a new song began. Slow guitar melodies of a country ballad followed, and Isabella fell heavily against Luke. Once again, everyone danced, and for the moment, they were forgotten. After several bars, Isabella’s breath returned.

“I haven’t danced like that in years,” she whispered.

Luke laughed. “Neither have I.”

“You’re still a great dancer,” she told him.

“And you’re still the sexiest thing to hit the dance floor.” Luke’s husky, mellow voice made her look up. Their gaze locked and her toes melted.

Isabella held her breath as his hand slipped up her back, pulling her closer. His eyes skimmed her face, and her skin flushed once again when they held on her lips.

“Luke,” a woman’s voice yelled from the other side of the room.

Luke stepped back, and turned just in time to catch the blonde ball of fire leaping into his arms. He eagerly embraced her, and spun around. His deep laugh said he was overjoyed to see whoever it was. Isabella stepped back, a sudden pang in her heart. She felt self-conscious and out-of-sorts while this woman clung to Luke as if she hadn’t seen him in years. Isabella crossed her arms over her chest and watched silently.

Luke stepped back from the mystery lady, his back to Isabella. Isabella stared at her blond curls and fumed. Guess I know why he didn’t answer the girlfriend question.

“Oh my God, you look great,” the woman exclaimed.

Isabella nearly choked when Luke planted a sound kiss on the woman’s cheek. “I wondered if you were coming.”

She leaned towards him. “I promised, didn’t I?” Luke nodded in answer. “I just don’t understand why now. After so long.”

Luke took the woman’s shoulders and turned her so she and Isabella faced each other. Isabella tried at first to avoid the woman’s eyes. A sharp gasp made her look up.

“Isabella?”

A bubbling joy like champagne bursting out of a bottle overtook Bella in seconds. “Erin? Erin. Oh, my God!”

*****

Luke stepped back, and watched the reunion of the two old friends. Just as he hoped, the moment was a complete surprise to both of them. They laughed, cried and talked all at the same time. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Luke worked on Erin for nearly a week to make it up from Boston for the dance. He finally convinced her to come, telling her only that some old friends would be there. The others hadn’t been as hard, even though they were coming from further away, because he told them up front it was for Bella. Thinking of that, he decided they would arrive shortly.

With one backward glance at the two women, he slipped towards the door. He no sooner got outside, when his own name echoed across the open parking lot. Damian and Scott met him between a bright red Mustang and a muddy brown Ford pick-up. Luke embraced each man roughly, pounding his hand against their backs in greeting.

“Christ, man. Look at you,” Scott exclaimed, slapping his hand against Luke’s shoulder. “Wow. You look great.”

Luke smiled, and looked between the two men. Damian looked the same as ten years before with his thin frame glasses and dramatic hair cut. Scott looked older and more mature, with gray already showing at his temples.

“How was the flight?” he asked Damian.

“Not bad. Scott met me at the Bangor airport. We got turned around somewhere or we would’ve been here about forty-five minutes ago. I don’t think it took as long to fly from Detroit to Bangor as it did to drive here from the airport.”

Luke laughed. Damian was as melodramatic as ever. “And the drive from Albany?”

Scott shrugged. “I’m used to driving. I’ve driven all the way to Fort Lauderdale with a proposal before. It doesn’t bother me. At least not as much as flying seems to bother Damian.”

Damian shrugged. “I’m sure it was worth the trip.”

Scott sobered. “Did Erin make it yet?”

“She showed up about ten minutes ago. The two of them were screaming hysterically when I snuck out. They might have realized I’m gone by now.”

The mood of the three grew serious. Luke only briefly highlighted the why’s and how’s of Bella coming to Maine when he called them, not wanting to say too much over the phone. But they both knew that the last few years weren’t good ones for her. He watched Scott surreptitiously. Luke also realized this would not be an easy night for Scott and Erin. They were together nearly six years after high school and planning their wedding, when things broke up. Luke still didn’t know the whole story. But both Scott and Erin were aware that the other would be there that night.

Luke let Jack and Christine know what was happening, but it wasn’t wise for them to make the trip. Not right now. No one seemed to know the whereabouts of Brian.

“How’s Isabella doing?” Damian finally asked.

Luke looked down, and ground the gravel beneath his sole. “I think she’s doing better. Better than she was a month ago. The bruises are gone, at least. The ribs are healed.”

Scott bunched his fists, the knuckles whitening. “I can’t believe she put up with crap like that. I’d like to pound Brodhi’s head in. Why didn’t she tell someone?”

“Who would she have told?” Luke asked, his own frustration coming out in his tone. “Jack and Christine were away when it all came down. When they came back, they were involved in their own lives. Damian, you moved from Boston to Detroit. Scott, you ended up in Albany. No one knows where Brian is. And me—.” He beat himself up innumerable times over this, but it never would be enough. “Of anyone, I should have been the one to see this. I should have been the one to stop this.”

Damian gripped Luke’s shoulder. “Luke, we all were blind and stupid. You’re obviously doing what you can now.”

Luke nodded, “I won’t let her be hurt again.”

Scott grinned, and nudged Luke’s shoulder with his fist. “Still feelin’ some spark, ol’ buddy?”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “To be honest, Scott, I don’t think it matters what I feel. The most important thing right now is helping Bella get her life back.”

Scott smiled. “You finally conceded to call her that for real?” Luke knew he looked shocked. “Man, we all knew that was your little pet name for her. You may have thought you never slipped,” he nodded with a grin, “but you did.”

Music burst through the hall door when it opened. “Luke?” Bella’s voice called across the open space. “Luke? Where are you?”

“Over here.” Luke motioned with his finger over his lips for the other two to be silent.

Bella rounded the end of the car and saw him first, a wide smile on her face. “I can’t believe—”

Then she saw Scott and Damian. Warmth wrapped around Luke’s heart when the tears sprang new in her eyes. Her fingers covered her mouth as she stepped forward, Erin right behind. She looked from Luke to Scott to Damian and back to Luke. He smiled and nodded.

Bella ran forward and embraced the newcomers to the reunion and kissed them, exclaiming how surprised and happy she was to see them. Then she turned back to Luke, her cheeks damp. Her smile was warm, and wide, and meant for him. She reached out and took his hand. The others fell silent.

“Did you do all of this?” she asked in a watery voice. Luke nodded in answer. “For me?”

He nodded again. “For you.”

She caught her breath and her other hand came up to touch his cheek. He wrapped his fingers around hers and kissed her palm.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper as she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.”

He pulled her against him and returned the embrace. Over her shoulder, he caught Scott smiling.

Chapter Sixteen

Isabella stumbled through the cabin door, doubled over in yet another fit of laughter. Her shoulder hit the doorjamb and she nearly fell over. Luke caught her with one arm, fighting to keep his own balance. She clung to his arms and buried her face against his shirt, desperately trying to catch her breath. Shoulders shuddered with suppressed mirth.

Luke pushed her back against the doorjamb, and she let her head fall against the wood. With his hand braced near her shoulder, he leaned forward for support. Both were short of breath with hilarity, and Bella pressed her hand against her heaving breast to calm the torrent. She tried to look at him, but the darkness and the tears in her eyes blurred his face. Swiping at them with her hand, she tried to bring him into focus.

“G-good lord,” she managed to stutter through gasps of breath. “I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”

“If I didn’t know you drank only Diet Coke all night, I’d think you were drunk.”

She took another deep breath. “I think I am drunk.” Throwing her arms wide, she yelled. “Drunk on life.”

Luke snatched her back outside, his hand over her mouth. Her body was too limp with happiness to fight, and she leaned heavily against him. It only created another burst of laughter. Isabella’s sides already ached.

“You’re going to wake the whole house if you keep it up,” he whispered close to her ear.

Isabella couldn’t hide the shiver that raced up her spine. She hoped Luke would assume it was another jolt of laughter, and took a deep, cleansing breath before pulling his hand from her mouth. The temptation to purse her lips and kiss the rough palm struck her, but Isabella suppressed the need. Exhilaration ran hard and fast through her, and she felt she could do almost anything. If she didn’t get it reined in, she would do something she’d regret later.

“I’m okay now.”

She made the mistake of looking up at him. Another burst tried to escape, resulting in an unbecoming cross between a snort and a raspberry. Isabella slapped her hand over her mouth again.

Luke smiled so wide she thought his jaw must ache. He leaned close to her, her back against the side of the cabin. She held her breath to make the giggles stop. Isabella nodded, and laid her hand on his chest.

“Honestly. I’m okay now. I’m under control.”

He nodded slowly. “I hope so. I feel like I’ve brought my date home after curfew, and I’m about to get caught.”

Isabella crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. The lingering remains of his cologne mingled sensually with his shaving cream and masculinity. She indulged herself by closing her eyes for a moment, and taking in a deep, tantalizing breath. Her head fell sideways and came against his arm, but she didn’t move away.

“I know what you mean. Not that I ever got home after curfew.” She let the fib lie between them, knowing full well they both snuck in more than once. “I feel young and alive again. It feels wonderful. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad you had a good time.” His voice was deep and husky, bringing Isabella’s eyes open again.

“I did. I haven’t seen those guys since—” she paused, “well, it’s been way too long.”

The euphoria of the night made her do things she wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise, but somehow everything felt so right and so perfect. Just like ten years ago. She pushed herself off the wall and eased against him, wrapping her arms around his body. His own arms were around her, and she nuzzled against him.

“Thank you so much. I didn’t realize how much I missed them. Only you would think of doing something like that for me. You were always doing things like that.” She drew back enough to look up at him. “I guess some things never change.”

His gaze moved over her face. Her limbs tingled when his stare fell on and remained at her mouth. Compulsively, she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. A small shudder skimmed Luke’s body, and the lowest of sounds came from the base of his throat.

“No, Bella, some things never change.”

They stood in each other’s arms, and Isabella knew if he released her, she would fall in a mushy heap on the porch. His eyes moved down, and she felt the invisible caress down her throat. She held her breath as he raised one hand. Luke’s calloused fingertips brushed the soft swell of her breasts, and Isabella sucked in her breath sharply.

His eyes came back to her, and he held her gaze. “Bella,” he whispered, as if speaking were difficult. “I don’t know if I can keep this up.”

She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, and tried to will away the speeding pulse at its base. Panic overtook where joy had been just a moment before. Thousands of thoughts raced through her mind. Isabella was too high on Luke and life to think clearly.

“What, Luke?” she managed to say.

His fingers slid along her throat until they slipped beneath her hair. Luke’s warm palm pressed against the side of her neck. Fingertips urged her just a fraction closer.

“I don’t know if I can go on like this.”

As he spoke, his other arm closed its hold on her. Their bodies aligned from chest to knee. Isabella’s heart pounded fiercely.

She couldn’t speak, her mind not wanting to accept what he said. At the same time, her heart screamed a strong argument for acceptance. Her body, heart and soul accepted what he said. It was her mind that needed to be dragged along, kicking and screaming.

“Please.” His plea was born from his soul, and she could see it in his face. “Please tell me this isn’t just one sided. Tell me you’re going just as crazy as I am. Tell me you want me to touch you as much as I need to do it.”

A bubbling joy joined into the tumultuous fray of emotions raging inside Isabella. She took the hand from her face, and with her gaze holding steady with his, laid the palm against her breast above her pounding heart. With the contact, she thought the organ would burst from her chest, just to be closer to his touch. Bella spoke, and prayed he would understand.

“Do you feel that?” she asked, hoping the words were strong enough to carry across the immensely small space between them. His nod was almost imperceptible. “You are the only man that can make me feel this way. Only you.”

His body tensed, drew up tight against hers. Both of his hands moved to her face and cupped her chin. Luke’s eyes skimmed over her features, and she held her breath as he moved closer. In sweet torture, his mouth hovered over her lips, his breath warming her flesh. Her body shivered with anticipation, and her fingers wrapped around his wrists, willing him closer.

“My Sweet Bella,” he murmured before his lips covered hers.

Her body jerked against him with the electric shock of the contact. Immediately, her blood rushed and pounded in her temples and the rest of the world fell away. All that was real was the touch of his mouth covering hers, exploring and tasting her anew.

His lips played over hers tentatively at first, but grew firmer and more confident as she responded to the intimate caress. A soft purr escaped from the back of her throat, and it spurred him on. Luke pushed her back against the wall and the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her stomach, making Isabella aware of her effect on him.

His tongue gently probed, requesting entrance, and filling the heated depth of her mouth. She willingly obliged and the world spun around them. Her hands found their way to his sides.

In a desperate need to feel him closer, her fingers curled inside the waist of his jeans. A gentle yank brought him nearer still. His hips nudged against her, expressing his own need. Bella gasped as he slowly raised her up, bringing the core of their desires closer together. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her arms around his shoulders, but the kiss never broke.

It was deep and ravenous and cautious and explorative all in the same moment. This was the kiss of a hunger long denied. A hunger for more than just sex. It was a yearning for the only person in the world who could satiate that hunger.

Luke’s hands cupped her bottom and pulled her closer still, moving against her and matching the rhythm of the kiss. With each entrance of his tongue, he ground his hard ridge against her. Her world spun. She pulled her mouth away and gasped, clinging desperately to the solid foundation of his body to keep her on earth.

“God help me, Bella,” he whispered against her throat, his teeth nipping gently at the delicate skin. His lips quickly soothed the spot, and his tongue followed suit. “Ten years—”

“—is too long,” she finished.

He lifted his head, and she looked down from her perch between him and the house. She touched the feathery ends of his black hair, and smiled. He shifted slightly beneath her and she closed her eyes, clinging to sanity against the torrent caused by the movement. Her breasts swelled against her shirt, and her nipples were hard pebbles pressed against the wall of his chest.

He moved to kiss her again. The porch suddenly flooded with light from the kitchen. At the same moment, they heard footsteps and Luke reluctantly set her on her feet. Her body slid down the long length of his before she hit the porch. Bella clung desperately to his arms; not trusting her knees to hold out should he let go.

“Son?” Hank called from inside the house. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, Dad. We’re home.”

Luke looked down at her, and joy flowed through her when he smiled. He leaned over and laid his lips close to her ear. “We’ll continue this discussion later.”

She linked her arm through his, attempting to walk without looking like a wooden soldier. They were about to step inside, but Luke stopped short and shot a look over his shoulder. He stepped away and walked to the edge of the porch, scanning the wood line.

Bella’s body screamed in revolt at losing his contact, but she managed to step towards him without becoming a heap of jelly. The look on his face concerned her.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His answer was short and succinct.

When he turned, his smile was warm again and he took her hand. They joined his father in the kitchen as he poured three cups of coffee. Apparently, he felt like socializing, and Bella groaned internally. She didn’t want to sit at the table and talk with Luke’s dad. What she wanted was to be on the table with Luke. They slid to the backbench, and Luke’s large hand rested on her thigh as they talked. The slight flex of his fingers drove her to distraction.

Hank asked about the dance, and she and Luke provided some of the details. Soon she felt the laughter building up again as they relayed some of the events of the evening. It had been so long since she had a good time, but she wanted to save every moment.

“Oh, before I forget. Your Commanding Officer called. Your Reserves weekend was bumped up. Something going on that they need additional manpower for. Your flight is booked for,” Hank glanced at his watch, “well, later this afternoon.”

*****

“I’m tellin’ ya. They had no idea.”

Deacon hunched over his desk, nestling the phone against his shoulder, and glanced around the senatorial headquarters to see if anyone was within earshot. “If she so much as suspects anything…”

“She doesn’t. I spent the entire night in the same room with her, and she was too stupid to know what the hell was going on. I even managed to get up to that shack they live in.”

“Did you see anything?”

“Boss, I don’t think you want to know.”

“What did you see?”

“Your wife and Mitchell got hot and heavy. He was all over her. If the old guy hadn’t come out, he might’ve done her right there.” Deacon groaned at the raunchy snicker. “I was hard as a rock just watchin’. Just to walk away I had to—”

“I don’t care that you jacked off in the woods. Get me more, and don’t bother calling unless it’s big.”

Deacon slammed down the phone, and rubbed his hands over his scruffy face. He hadn’t bothered to shave this morning when he left–what was her name? Who cares? Just another screw who didn’t care he was married. She just liked his recognizable name. And she was apparently too dumb to read the papers, or she didn’t care about the trial.

So, Izzy wanted to screw around with Mitchell, huh? He knew she’d been sneaking around behind his back. Once he showed proof to the judge she was with that grunt, he’d understand why her ‘lesson’ was necessary. In the end, Deacon Brodhi would come out on top. No matter what he had to do.

Izzy would pay for the years of disrespect despite everything he did for her. Stupid little slut.

He glanced around before pulling a sterling silver flask from his drawer. After a long draw off it, he sat back and crossed his hands behind his head. Time for Phase Two.

*****

Luke fastened the last brass button on his dress greens, and straightened the jacket with a sharp tug. He turned from the mirror and smiled. Sitting in a neat little row on his bed was Christopher, Lucia and their beautiful mother. They watched him intently as he moved about the room, preparing to leave for his weekend duty. His heart swelled so large with a wonderfully warm feeling, he thought it might burst. In a month’s time, he’d gone from a single human to a man and his family. That thought made him smile. A family.

“How do I look?” he asked, standing at ease before them.

Lucia stood up on the bed and reached for the rows of medals decorating his left chest. “Pwetty.”

He touched her hair and eased her into his arms so she could better reach the decorations.

“You don’t look like a soldier,” Christopher stated. “Soldiers are supposed to wear camouflage, aren’t they? And black stuff on their face. Like in the movies, right?”

“When fighting, yes. But I’m not fighting this weekend.” He took his black beret, emblazoned with the Rangers crest, from the bed and put it on. “When we aren’t fighting we sometime dress like this.”

Bella stood and scooted her offspring out of the room, telling them to go play. They left only after she promised they could say good-bye to Luke before he left. Once the children were gone, she turned back towards him. Her eyes looked forlorn.

She stepped to him, and reached out as her daughter had done, to touch the array of medals on his chest. Her palm ran across the rough material to feign straightening his upright collar.

“You look so handsome.” Her gaze moved across his body and eventually came up to meet his own. “Where are you going to be?”

“The Devens Complex in Massachusetts. It’s a former Army base now used for training and community development. There’s a political dinner and ceremony there, and I’m acting as part of the military entourage.” Her innocent touch drove him crazy. He kept talking to keep from tossing her down on the bed and kissing her senseless.

Since their kiss, he had been in a near-constant state of discomfort. His body screamed for her. And his heart cried for her. Every cell wanted her, in every possible way.

Her palms stopped on his chest, and he put his hands at her waist, pulling her towards him. God, it felt good to be able to hold her again. He never realized how fulfilling it could be to take a woman in your arms whenever you wanted to. Not just any woman, but one woman. There was no resistance in her body, and she moved against him. He covered her mouth, and his blood reveled in her sweet taste. She responded willingly and with equal fervor, driving him further towards the edge of insanity.

Reluctantly, he pulled his lips away and pressed his cheek against hers. Her face nuzzled against his neck, and she hummed. The reverberation against his flesh was enough to make him want to leave his uniform in a clump on the floor.

“You smell good,” she mumbled.

Her innocent complement made him smile, and he chuckled. He pulled her closer, amazed at how wonderfully satisfying a simple embrace could be. Without releasing her, he quickly told her the itinerary for the weekend. Overall, it would be one of his easiest duties since leaving the Rangers full time. But he wouldn’t be home until late Sunday night.

“It actually worked out well. You’ll have Scott, Erin and Damian to keep you company for most of the weekend. I called them to let them know I had to leave, but they’ll be up in the morning to see you.”

She nodded against his shoulder, remaining quiet. Her hands worked back up to his arms, and her fingers casually stroked the Special Forces Airborne badge embroidered on his upper sleeve. God, she felt so small in his arms. Had she always been this delicate? He pressed his lips to her temple before reluctantly stepping away, going to his bureau. As he pulled some bills from his wallet, he spoke.

“I want you to take this. Just in case.”

The tears on her cheeks surprised him when he turned back. She stood stock still, with her arms crossed over her body. Bella stared intently at him, and he could see she was trying desperately to smile. An unsteady hand wiped away the tears.

He moved to her, and brushed her cheek with his thumb before kissing the dampness away. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m haunted by déjà vu.” She cleared her throat and looked up at him. With a weak chuckle, she explained. “I seem to recall another time. We had our first kiss and then you left for the Army.” Her small fingers wrapped around his hand, and she held it firmly against her cheek. “Last night was almost like the first for us, all over again. And today you’re leaving.” Her last words were faint behind a strangled cry.

“Hey,” he whispered, “There’s a big difference this time, baby. This time I’ll be back in two days. And this time—” His hand eased her face upward. Their lips were a sparse inch apart. “This time there is nothing on this earth to keep me from coming back to you.”

Chapter Seventeen

The silence on the Mountain was nearly deafening. Leaves hung still on the trees, and the birds stopped singing altogether. The heat of the day was oppressive, and it hadn’t lessened, even though the sun set an hour before. Since coming to the Mountain, the days had been pleasantly mild and warm. Bella hadn’t considered it could get this hot here. But she was wrong. It was too hot for even the crickets to sing their evening song.

Despite the heat, she sat on the porch and swayed slowly in the wicker rocking chair. The air conditioners ran inside the cabin so the children and Hank could sleep comfortably. But she was too restless to lay and stare at the ceiling.

The last two days were the longest of her life. Not even in the weeks following Luke’s departure for Basic Training did she feel this solitary and alone. She had her children and Hank to keep her company, but it wasn’t the same. Was it some cruel twist of fate that each time he left it was after they had - just exactly how could she define it? They hadn’t been ‘intimate’ as defined by the masses. They kissed, just kissed. But, oh what a kiss. A shoe-melting, heart-pounding, soul-rendering, flesh-sizzling, blood-boiling kiss.

Sitting alone in a rocking chair, with the night closing in on her, Bella felt a different kind of warmth spread over her body. She smiled, and welcomed the sensation like warm water flowing over her flesh.

But then the loneliness set in again. Remembering his touch wasn’t nearly as wonderful as having him there. She didn’t recognize the sensation he created in her for what it was when they were young. Back then, she was too naïve to understand her own sexuality and desire for him. For ten years, she lacked any sensation at all. The Joy of Sex was a myth. Deacon generated only pain and disgust. Despite the bitterness she held against Deacon for what he did, Bella imagined how glorious it would be to make love to Luke. Her imagination now far outgrown any fantasy she held years before.

But just as the languid heat of his memory washed over her, the cold chill of doubt made her shiver. This was crazy. Every bit of it. How crazy was she to try and forget the last ten years? She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But she couldn’t forget the hurt she caused Luke. Bella couldn’t expect him to forget it, either. The kiss was wonderful. It was passionate and overwhelming. But two days passed for him to cool down and step back from her oppressive presence. What did he feel now? Regret? Affection? What?

She shook her head and took a long sip from her iced tea. Large drops of condensation dripped onto her bare thigh as she sipped. The cold drops of water cooled her skin for only a moment.

Bella tried to get her mind off missing Luke by thinking about the wonderful weekend she spent with long-missed friends. Seeing Damian, Erin and Scott was a panacea for her soul. Her heart went back a decade to when life was easier, and concerns didn’t go any further than Friday’s test or the next paper due.

After Luke’s departure, Hank invited them to stay right at the cabin, and Bella was thankful for the company. They stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning, remembering the past and filling each other in on the directions their lives had taken. Bella managed to steer the conversation away from her own. Damian’s theatrical adventures and Scott’s business coups were far more interesting.

Hank stumbled around in the kitchen, and he shouted a final goodnight before retiring for the evening.

She stood to look through the screen. “Good night, Hank. Sweet dreams. I turned your air conditioner on before sundown, so your room should be nice and cool.”

“Thanks.” He raised his glass of iced tea to her. “Don’t stay up too late, Isabella. It might be close to midnight, if not later, before he gets home.”

Bella nodded in admission, and watched the elder Mitchell move down the hall. She tied her tee shirt in a knot just below where her bra should be, to expose more skin in hopes of cooling down, and turned back to the yard. Bella stood on the edge of the porch and leaned her shoulder against the pole. The last remnants of light peeked out behind the tree line, making the sky glow a warm pink. The sunsets in Oklahoma were beautiful, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the ones here.

She wondered if everything here on Mitchell’s Mountain was as fairytale and ethereal as she supposed, or if it was just her heart looking through rose-colored glasses. Bella shook her head, arguing with herself in her own mind. No, this place was as amazing and serene as it appeared. She could live here forever and never, ever want to leave.

Live here forever...

What a gloriously sweet dream, to hope to live here forever. She looked up the mountain to the purple peaks beyond. The air was heavy with the many scents of the forest, and they invigorated yet calmed her as they danced around in her head. Pine and tree sap and moss and wildflowers all mingled together in the sweetest of perfumes.

A chill rushed over her skin as a breeze fluttered through the yard. The leaves rustled together in a sweet melody. In her musing, she missed the air change. The wind picked up. The evening went from oppressively hot, to almost cool, in a matter of minutes. The thin cotton of her tee shirt didn’t ward off the chill on her flesh. Where her skin had been damp with perspiration moments before, now prickled with gooseflesh.

Her heart pounded faster in her chest, matching the tone of the dark clouds rolling across the sky. The wind grew exponentially stronger, and two large raindrops hit her cheek and arm.

“Thunderheads,” she whispered reverently.

A bolt of lighting lit up the sky, followed almost immediately by the rolling drum of thunder. A smile spread across her face, and she closed her eyes. God, she loved thunderstorms. Bella stepped off the porch and walked into the yard as the rain increased. Huge, cool pellets of water assailed her, and she turned her face into it. The air vibrated with energy, and the ground shook when another boom exploded.

The rain came in a torrent, sluicing her hair back from her face and plastering her tee shirt to her body. She turned her face to the sky and spread her arms wide, welcoming the cleansing sensation of the downpour. A quiver rocked her body in rhythm with the next lightening bolt.

A sharp whinny, and the sound of stomping, snapped her out of her revelry. Bella looked towards the barn. Walking towards the outbuilding, she heard the nervous neighs and nickers from Sam and the other horses inside. She opened the door and stepped into the dusky warmth of the stable’s interior.

“What’s the matter, Sammy?” she asked in a singsong voice. “The thunder scaring you?”

Sam tossed his head over the side of his stall and bobbed his muzzle, as if confirming his fear. She moved towards him with her hand stretched out. A low neigh greeted her. Both Fancy and Noah leaned over their stall walls to reach out to her. Her presence seemed to calm them as she stroked their velvety noses and muscled necks.

“It’s nothing but thunder,” she whispered against Fancy’s jowl, and rubbed her cheek against the warm coat. She used the same lyrical voice that soothed her own children. “It won’t hurt you, I won’t let it.”

Jealous for attention, Noah nudged her with his nose and she chuckled, turning some of her affection on him as well. The oldest of the three steeds, Noah expected to be given more consideration than the other two. Bella laughed when he nipped at the knot in her tee shirt and sniffed her pockets. Luke always carried treats for them, but she had none. Noah bobbed his head, and a rumbling neigh vibrated under her hand.

“What a good boy you are, huh? You’re a silly boy to be afraid of a little storm. Just a lot of noise, nothing else.”

*****

“Just a lot of noise, nothing else.”

Surges of emotion pounded in Luke’s chest. Intense, they nearly flattened him against the barn door. Bella stood in the walkway and tried to love three very greedy animals all at the same time. Each fought for her attention. She did her best to divide her caresses equally, and Luke found himself jealous of his own horse.

Two days was an eternity not to see her. How did he go ten years? Did he breathe for ten years?

She hadn’t seen him and wasn’t aware of his voyeuristic presence. Bella turned slightly, and he saw her profile. He nearly groaned aloud. The drenched fabric of her clothing clung to her, revealing every feminine curve and swell. Luke realized, with a gut-wrenching thud, she wore nothing beneath her tee shirt. The defined impression of her nipple pressed against the wet fabric. With a flip of her head, she tossed her wet hair out of her face. It was almost his undoing.

“You big baby,” she cajoled Fancy, and pressed her lips against the mare’s nose.

“Bella,” Luke managed to whisper through an incredibly thick, dry throat.

She spun around, and the three horses jerked their heads in surprise. Desperate for her attention, they didn’t hear him come in from the inundation of weather outside. Brown eyes locked with him and another clap of thunder sounded outside. Rumbles bounced off the wooden walls of the barn. Luke’s body rocked when she closed her eyes. He felt the vibration move through the floor and up his body, and knew she reveled in the sensation herself. Her chest rose and fell in deep breaths. His gaze traveled over her body. Bella was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen or imagined.

“Los truenos estan tan erotico. It pounds in my blood.”

His body moved by its own free will, and took him across the hay-littered floor. Here she stood, beautiful and exquisite and driving him out of his mind and she was calling the thunder sexy? Did she have any idea what a beauty of creation she was?

“Bella,” he spoke again. It was the only thing to pass his lips.

Before she could answer him, or open her eyes, he took her in his arms. His lips covered hers in a ravenous hunger he couldn’t fight down a moment longer. A sweet moan escaped from her throat, and she clung to him as he ravaged her mouth. Sweet rain and glorious heat melded together in one shattering moment.

Bella’s body shook with the raw intensity of his kiss. Her soul was split apart between the need to escape the sweet onslaught, and the longing to devour it and beg for more. Raw, voracious need overtook her. She stopped fighting the hunger.

He pressed his rough face into the curve of her neck. Bella gasped as he nipped and gently drew her flesh between his teeth. Her heart pounded so hard and fast, she thought it would burst from her chest. Luke held her in a bear-like embrace. She sought his lips again, needing to taste him.

Their lips met, and she pressed her body against him, hoping he would know how much she needed him. She didn’t want to think what it all meant. Bella only knew she needed him. Needed to appease the ache deep in her core. Needed to know he still felt the heat for her that she felt for him.

He swept her into his arms and kicked open the door of the tack room. Without breaking contact between his lips and her throat, he pushed aside a saddle rack and tack box until the floor was cleared of obstacles. The floor, like the rest of the barn, was dusted with fresh hay. Aromatic, grassy scents surrounded her and mingled with the smells of saddle soap and leather.

Luke set her on her feet. He stepped away, and a sharp tug in her gut made Bella gasp. Her body swayed when the connection broke. Soon, a green army blanket covered the dusty, hay-littered floor and she was in his arms again.

Bella knew no words to express the raw emotions and longing tearing her apart. She wanted him so badly her body hurt…ached. A deep, unadulterated pleasure filled her when his hand encompassed one breast and he kneaded it through her wet shirt. Softly, she groaned and leaned into him.

“Luke,” she moaned as his mouth fed on the flesh beneath her ear. “Oh, God.”

“Touch me, Bella,” he begged, his voice husky and heavy. “I’m going to die if you don’t touch me.”

Nearing delirium, she ran her hands over his back and found the hem of his shirt. Her fingers slid beneath the fabric, and she found a pleasure she never realized existed.

Bella felt the jolting spasms of his muscles beneath her palms as his body involuntarily reacted to her touch. A heady power filled her and she pushed the tee shirt further up his back, taking immense pleasure in the feeling of his warm skin beneath her touch.

She never knew there could be so much pleasure in touching a man like this. The want for him burned hot. It was spurred on by the knowledge of his own need. He begged for her to give him release. To touch him.

Impatiently, he pulled the shirt off over his head. Moments later her own was gone and she flushed hot as his eyes took in her bare breasts. The gaze was as intimate as his touch. Luke knelt before her, and her breath rasped in her throat when he drew her hard nipple into the white-hot heat of his mouth. Bella sagged against him and his hands supported her, pressing her stomach against the hard wall of his chest. Her fingers raked his hair, and her world exploded.

His hands worked open the front of her cut-offs. New sensations assaulted her as his mouth followed the path of his hands. Luke kissed the exposed flesh of her abdomen as he lowered both her shorts and panties. Strong hands never left her body, and he supported her as she stepped clear. The garments were tossed away.

Cold splinters of ice shot through her body in a euphoric explosion when his mouth pressed hard against the very core of her desire, and she part moaned, part screamed in release. Her knees gave way and he eased her onto the blanket, moving between her thighs as he gently let his body weight press against her.

Her nails dug into the hard muscles of his back. She needed him closer still, and her teeth nipped at his shoulder. Desperation overtook her. Bella’s hands found the front of his jeans, and she fumbled violently with them until the five buttons were undone. He moaned against her breasts when she released his hard erection.

She pushed impatiently against the waistband and he helped her ease them down his legs. They soon joined the pile of damp clothing against the wall. Her hand grazed across his rear and his fingers flexed into tight fists beside her head.

Luke pushed himself up over her, and their stares locked. Her hands moved over his chest and his eyes closed tightly. Bella watched as the muscle in his jaw twitched and his skin quivered beneath her touch. His body nudged her legs.

“Love me, Luke,” she gasped.

His mouth covered hers again, and she clung desperately to him. In excruciating slowness, he entered her. Bella nearly screamed out as electric currents rushed through her body. Luke filled her completely. His arms wrapped around her body and he clung to her so tightly she fought to breath. But he didn’t move, only pressing himself as deep as possible inside.

Even that drove her to the point of insanity.

Then slowly, he began to move, drawing himself out and driving back into her. Each stroke was an ecstasy in itself. As his tempo increased, she felt nothing but the mounting turmoil in her core. In a cataclysmic shower of chaos she climaxed, and her body tightened around him in need. Bella tossed her head back and rode the wave, never before understanding the pure joy of being loved.

Luke groaned and thrust once more into her depth before reaching himself in a sweet shudder. His face pressed against the hollow of her throat, and the comforting weight of his body brought her back to earth. He lay still against her as his breath eased.

Raw emotion racked Bella’s body. It was uncontrollable and unexplainable. Hot tears ran down her temples to mingle with the dampness in her hair. She tried to cover the sob, but Luke’s head came up, and concern was his expression.

“Oh, Sweet Jesus,’ he exclaimed. “Oh, God Bella. Did I hurt you?”

She only shook her head in answer, the small sobs making their way up from her heart. Many times in her life she cried, but never out of sheer and untainted joy.

“No,” she whispered, touching the short hair at his temple.

“What is it, love? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just—”

How could she explain the elation? Her heart floated in the clouds and her soul flew with the angels. The dream of a lifetime finally came true. What words could express all that? In a thousand years, she could not explain. Laughter and tears blended together.

Luke smiled then. Genuine emotion spread over his face. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. Together, they laughed. He pressed his lips against hers.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Chapter Eighteen

Warmth. Luscious, languid, delicious warmth. Weight. Luxurious, delectable heaviness. Pleasure. Joy. Sunlight. Mmmmm. Stretching… smiling… cuddling...

Slowly, one by one, Bella’s senses worked their way into consciousness. Her hands moved on their own accord, and she delighted in the sensation of smooth heat and crinkled hairs beneath her palms. She hummed softly, and pressed her lips against warm flesh.

“God, Bella, if you’re not awake I’m going to make love to you in your sleep.”

Bella smiled at the husky whisper and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. Their bodies shifted, the wood and springs of Luke’s bed protesting with the movement, and her eyes fluttered open as Luke moved over her. His mouth pressed hot against her shoulder, and the now familiar sweet tumbling in her stomach made her smile. She gasped and wrapped her arms around him, her fingers learning every bunching muscle and rippling contour of his body.

He moaned against her breast, and his lips teased her nipple until it puckered and invited him to take it in a gentle suckle. Her nails dug into his flesh.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, his mouth making beautiful music against her flesh.

She stretched beneath him, slowly draping her legs across the back of his own, encouraging him with her calves to move closer. He obliged willingly.

“Better than I have in years,” Bella whispered.

“You should, you kept me up half the night.” His chuckle vibrated against the valley between her breasts.

Finding an audacity she never knew she possessed, she pressed her fingers into his buttocks and squeezed. With a low groan, he slipped inside her and her breath caught.

“You’re playing with fire,” his deep voice rumbled.

Grinning wickedly, she wrapped her legs around his body. Luke chuckled, and gave her exactly what she asked for. He moved agonizingly slow, nearly leaving her completely before entering her again, burying himself as deep as possible. Slowly, ever so slowly, he built the tumble of pandemonium inside her until she panted in short, quick gasps. Her hands pressed against the knotting muscles of his back as they flexed with each unhurried stroke. Bella felt his heart pound inside the wall of his chest, thundering against her.

Still he moved, drawing every ounce of bliss from her body. His hands cupped her bottom and lifted her slightly off the bed, allowing him to fill her deeper than before. When her ecstasy exploded, it was unlike any of the times the night before. It was sweet and low and washed over her, emanating from the union of their bodies.

Bella’s breath caught, and her back arched as she climaxed. She relished in the sensation of tightening around Luke. He moaned and buried his face in the curve of her neck, following her.

Bella lay still, basking in the quivering sensations still haunting her, depleted and euphoric. Luke kissed her neck, her jaw, and her cheek until he found her lips. She cupped his unshaven face in her hands and held him close, drawing strength from his kiss, and an even deeper satisfaction.

Shifting slightly, he eased onto an elbow to hover over her. His other hand brushed aside a lock of black hair from her shoulder, caressing her cheek as he did it. He smiled, and a warm feeling of love filled her. Bella touched his face again, hoping he wouldn’t disappear like a dream.

“It was real, wasn’t it?” she asked.

He nodded, his fingertip following the valley between her breasts to her naval. “Finally.”

She smiled, and tried to ignore the tingling sensation his touch left behind. “I don’t remember coming in the house. I remember the before and the after.” His smile grew wider. She knew he was remembering the culmination of ten years of longing. “But I don’t remember the actual movement from there to here.”

His hand slipped beneath the coverlet and his palm pressed against the soft swell of her hip. “I don’t think I do, either. It’s pretty hazy. I was still in a fog.”

“A fog?”

His eyes left the exploration of her body to hold her gaze. A sober sincerity reflected in the cerulean pools. Luke touched her cheek, but the contact was more reverent, more appreciative than before.

“Last night was the happiest moment of my life. I was nearly overwhelmed by it. The only thing better was this morning.”

“What, just now?”

He grinned, and shook his head slowly. “No. Waking up with you in my bed and in my arms.”

Bella’s eyes misted and she pressed her lips against his palm. He relaxed his position, and rested his cheek against her breast. With a contented, delighted sigh, she ran her fingers through his black hair. Never had anything felt so natural than to be in his arms, and feel the warmth of his body beside her.

Before last night, fears haunted her. Would she be able to make love to Luke? Even as he held her last night, terror nearly paralyzed her heart. Other than the explorative kisses she and Luke shared years before, disgust was all she related to the act of sex. Bella dreaded it, was sickened by it, and avoided Deacon’s rough and bruising hands at any cost. Somewhere, she knew it would, and could, be different. Last night Luke proved it to her.

Reluctantly, they conceded it was time to drag themselves from the warmth of the bed, and each other’s arms, to face the morning. They parted in the hall, and Luke went to his temporary bedroom to change clothes. Minutes later, Bella heard him descend the stairs as she laid bacon out in the frying pan.

His arms wrapped around her, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. Bella leaned into him, and tried to keep her mind on cooking. But he had shaved, and the smell of his shaving cream filled her senses. His lips kissed beneath her ear.

“Are the kids up yet?” he asked.

“Nope, not a sound out of them. But your dad is already gone. I think I heard Clyde and Rodric arrive while you were changing.”

Luke moaned. “I almost forgot. It’s Monday.”

“Are you coming back down for lunch?”

“Will you be naked?”

Bella chuckled, and turned to kiss his cheek. “You’re fresh.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

She continued to prepare breakfast, but Luke didn’t release his hold. Instead, he moved with her. When she reached for a plate off the shelf, Luke slipped his hand beneath her shirt. His rough hand brushed her stomach, and she jerked her arm down at the sensation.

“That tickles,” she squealed.

His chuckle rumbled against her back. “You’re still ticklish.” Luke curled his fingers against her side.

“No,” she yelled, and tried to pull away from him.

Without mercy, Luke pulled her away from the hot stove and pressed his fingers into her side. Bella fought and squirmed, but his hold was too strong. His deep laugh mixed with her shrieks, and Luke turned her in his arms. Despite her best efforts, he soon pinned her back to the wall, and relentlessly assaulted her sensitive sides.

Bella pushed against his shoulders, and cried out when he lifted her off the floor. “Stop, Luke. Stop. Please!”

But he only laughed harder, and his hand slipped further beneath her shirt. Bella laughed so hard she fought to catch her breath. She kept screaming his name, begging he relent on his torture.

Suddenly, Luke dropped Bella to her feet and yelled out. She looked down in shock as he crumpled to his knees on the floor. He clutched at his knee, and looked over his shoulder. Bella looked up, and gasped.

Christopher stood two feet away, a large piece of firewood in his hands. His cheeks streaked with tears, and his teeth clenched tight. He lifted the wood over his head, aiming again for Luke.

“Whoa!” Luke put his hand out.

“Christopher, no,” Bella yelled.

Her son looked up at her, and the frightened emotion filling his eyes choked her heart. Bella crouched down, bringing them eye level, and put her hands out to him. His pajama-clad shoulders shook with sobs.

“Honey, what are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“He was hurting you. I won’t let him,” Christopher yelled, his voice shaking.

Tears flooded Bella’s eyes, and she shook her head. “No, honey. Luke wasn’t hurting me. We were playing.”

“No,” Christopher screamed, and the sound came from so deep within him, Bella cringed. “He’s just like him.” Chris raised the wood again.

Luke lunged. The firewood was gone, and Christopher was in her arms. She clung to him, holding his shaking body against her and kissing his hair.

“No, sweetie, no. It’s okay,” she whispered.

Christopher mumbled into her shoulder, but most couldn’t be understood. Luke eased forward. His hand touched her shoulder. Their gazes met, and the questions in his eyes were obvious. Bella closed her eyes and rocked her son.

*****

Fine maple sawdust drifted like dust motes in the stream of sunshine coming through the huge mill windows. Giant squares of light spread away twenty feet across the concrete floor. One fell across Luke’s feet, and his toes warmed in the steel-toe boots. Silence surrounded him, and he was lost in the scene.

Rodric stepped in front of him, and he jumped. Rod yelled something. Embarrassed by his inattention, Luke pulled the foam earplugs out of his ears and yanked down his facemask. Immediately, violent, obtrusive grinding of the giant saw as it debarked a truckload of Maple trees assaulted his eardrums.

“What?” Luke yelled. Too many words were wasted when trying to speak over the saw.

Rod pointed behind him, and he turned. Despite himself, a smile filled his face and his stomach flipped. Bella stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her body. She smiled and lifted her hand in a small wave.

“Thanks,” he yelled to Rodric.

She met him at the door with her hands out and a welcome smile on her lips. Luke took off his safety goggles and helmet as he walked, and yanked her against him as soon as he was close enough. He couldn’t hear her giggle over the giant saw, but it reverberated against his mouth when he kissed her. Bella wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her effortlessly off the ground to walk away from the large building.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said against her cheek. “I’ve missed you. How long has it been?”

“Four hours.”

Luke moaned. “Four very long hours.”

Bella laughed. “Hank sent me down. An order came in and he wants to talk to you about it.”

He nodded, and conceded to hold her hand as they walked to the cabin. She walked beside him, and Luke enjoyed how good it felt to have her doing just that. This was the way his life should have been. Bella in his arms at night, and holding his hand as they walked. Black-haired kids running in the yard, and eating in the kitchen. It was paradise.

“How’s Chris?” he asked.

Bella shrugged. “Better. He was upset for a long time after you left. But he’s okay now. I talked to him, and listened, and he understands.”

“Understands?”

They reached the porch, and stopped before going inside. Bella looked up at him, and warmth washed over his skin. Her delicate hand rested on his chest. When their eyes met, her lips curled up in a slow smile and her eyes twinkled.

“He understands you’re not Deacon. He thought you were hurting me this morning. Christopher didn’t realize you were just playing. Goofing around like that doesn’t happen around his father.”

“I figured as much.”

Her fingertips toyed with the pocket on his tee shirt. “There’s something I didn’t tell you. And it’s not because I was hiding it. It was just hard.”

Luke waited, letting her speak when she was ready. Her eyes held his, but her chin quivered slightly. It reminded him of Bella as a teenager. She was always strong and courageous to everyone else, but with him she let her vulnerability sneak through. He touched her cheek, and brushed back a wisp of raven hair.

“The night Deacon snapped, and put me in the hospital, Christopher was the one who called Jack.”

Luke nodded. He knew that much already. Jack told him during their conversation.

“But it’s more than that.” Bella swallowed hard. “Christopher stopped Deacon from killing me. I thought I was dead. I saw it in Deacon’s eyes. But Christopher stood between us. He pushed Deacon back.” She took a deep, shaky breath as two large tears rolled down her cheeks. “Deacon could’ve knocked Chris out of the way, but he didn’t. I don’t know why. But it was enough. Deacon left, and Christopher called his uncle.”

A raw ache restricted Luke’s throat. “He’s a brave kid.”

Bella swiped at her tears, and nodded. She crossed her arms over her body, and stepped back a pace. “Yes, he is. Braver than any kid his age should have to be. It’s not right, Luke.”

Luke held her elbows, and pulled her back to him. “No, baby, it’s not. But it will be right, from now on.”

Hank opened the door. “Good, I’m glad you got here. Culver Construction called about an hour ago. Billy wants three loads of long planks in Pine.”

Luke and Bella followed Hank into the office. She sat down at Luke’s desk while he and his father examined a topographic map of their property on the wall.

“When does he want them by?” Luke asked.

“Three weeks. He wants them debarked, and split into smooth two-inch planks. But they’ve got to be approximately trailer length, so they’ve got to be some big guys. Old stock.”

Luke nodded, and examined the map. Their acreage was divided into several alpha-coded lots, each lot covering ten acres each. He picked up a notepad, and tapped the map with his pencil.

“Are we going over the road, or can we freight this?”

“Culver wants the logs as we get them. But they’re only going to Portland. So, I figure we can send Rod with the Kenworth and flatbed as we finish each load.”

Luke nodded. “Okay, then. We’ll start Cedric and Richard up on Lot F tomorrow. We’ll mix the lots up.”

*****

Bella leaned back in Luke’s chair, and watched him work with his father. She didn’t understand most of what they talked about, but she enjoyed the exchange. Luke obviously knew the business. Hank told her stories of what the business was like before Luke got actively involved.

Hank Mitchell ran a standard lumber business, just like a hundred other lumber mills in the country. But Luke specialized the operation. Made what they offered a high-demand product rather than a surplus commodity. In less than two years time, Mitchell Lumber became Mitchell and Son Specialty Wood Products. Now, instead of shipping their logs off for chipping, paper products or general building lumber, their wood was requested by executive homebuilders and architecture firms. Hank also told her, with a proud smile, Luke finished his college degrees at the same time.

Bella lost track of their conversation, and watched Luke write notes on a pad of paper. He looked up, and winked at her, before turning back to the map. Warmth flowed over her.

She was happy Luke knew what happened with Christopher. It just seemed right to tell him. He needed to understand her son’s strong reaction. Luke was wonderful after Christopher hit him. Instead of getting upset, he helped her calm Chris down, and then left for her to talk to her son. It was the best thing he could’ve done. That simple fact meant more to Christopher than anything else Luke could’ve said or done.

The phone near her elbow rang.

“Can you get that, Bella?” Luke asked.

She smiled and picked up the receiver. “Hello. Mitchell and Son Specialty Wood Products. Can I help you?”

There was no answer at first, and she thought perhaps no one was there. “Can I help you?” she asked again.

“Hi, Izzy.”

Bella’s heart stopped, and a cold sweat covered her skin. She couldn’t speak, the only sound from her throat a weak croak.

“What’s wrong, darling? Miss me that much?”

“How did you know I was here?” she managed to ask.

Luke stopped talking, and turned on his heels.

“Izzy, you know me. You know I wouldn’t let you disappear and not find you. You’re my wife. You belong to me.”

Bella clutched the phone, and pressed her eyes together. Son of a bitch. “Yes, I know you, Deacon,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

His voice dropped lower, a menacing tinge to its rumble. “You know I won’t put up with this kind of disobedience. You belong to me. You’ve belonged to me since I decided I wanted you. I am a man true to my word, Izzy.”

“Go to hell!” Bella screamed, sheer fury bursting from her soul. He didn’t scare her anymore. Deacon just pissed her off.

Luke grabbed the phone from her hand. His lips were set in a tight line, and his fist shook in the clench. “Understand this, Brodhi,” he forced through a tight whisper. “If I ever, ever get my hands on you, you will wish to God you never laid a hand on her.”

He pulled the phone away from his face, looked at it in disgust, and slammed it down. Grabbing the arm of her chair, he spun Bella around to face him. Crouched at her knees, he stared into her face.

“Are you okay?”

Bella nodded. “Fine. He just surprised me. I didn’t think he’d find me here.” The reality that he had lit a fuse. “Bastard,” she cursed.

At one time, just the sound of Deacon’s voice terrified her. She got good at hiding her fear, but hiding her fury was entirely different. Being outside his realm of control allowed her to feel true and raw emotions she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge in years.

Christopher came to the doorway, leading his little sister by the hand. Her daughter went straight to Luke, and lifted her arms to him. He obliged her silent request, and stood up. Despite her anger, Bella smiled. Lucia curled into Luke’s shoulder, one thumb in her mouth, and the other hand twisting his hair between small fingers. Luke kissed her forehead, and looked down on Bella. New tears blurred her vision, but not out of sadness or anger. Out of the beauty of the scene.

Hank ruffled Christopher’s hair when he walked by, and her son came to her side. “Is everything okay, Mom?”

Bella touched her son’s cheek. “Everything’s fine, honey. Why don’t you take Luka into the kitchen? Get some juice and crackers.”

He nodded, and turned to Luke. “I’m sorry for what I did earlier, Luke,” he said, his voice low.

Luke put his free hand on Christopher’s shoulder and smiled. “Don’t be sorry, Chris. You were protecting your mom, and that will never be wrong.”

Christopher took his sister from Luke, and left the room again. The presence of her children was a cure to her anger, and she sighed deeply. Hank mumbled something about checking on the mill and left the office, leaving Luke and Bella alone again. She looked up at him, and saw the storm rolling behind his blue eyes.

Bella stood and went to him. She sighed when his arms came around her in a secure embrace. The tension slowly crept from his body, and he stroked her hair. With her cheek resting against his chest, Bella breathed in deeply the scents surrounding him. It was a sweet combination of wilderness and wood and masculinity.

He spoke in a strained whisper. “That morning, when I saw you standing in my kitchen, you stole my heart all over again. You always had it. I just refused to acknowledge it. But I won’t make that mistake again.” His voice was a pleasing rumble against her cheek, but his words wrapped around her heart in a gentle grip.

Bella stepped back, and met his eyes. Luke touched her cheek, and a cold heat hit her bloodstream. His eyes moved over her face. His lips touched her cheek, her forehead, and her lips in a slow navigation of her face.

“We’ve got to take care of this,” he said against her hair.

Bella nodded. “I know.”

With one final, fortifying breath, she stepped away. Luke stood in his place while she went to the phone and dialed.

Three rings and the line connected. “Jack McNeil.”

“Hi, it’s me.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me,” Bella whispered from the passenger seat of their rental car.

“What made you think of that?” Luke asked, glancing at her before looking back to the road that stretched out ahead of them, leading out of Indian Prairie proper.

“The sun coming up over the horizon, shining light on everything. I’ve hated the sight of this place for so long. The thoughts and memories of it were just too raw. All of a sudden, things don’t feel so… menacing.”

Christopher stirred in the back seat, and rubbed his eyes. “Where are we, Mama?” he mumbled.

“We’re almost to Abuelita and Abuelito’s.”

Luke watched Christopher in the rear view mirror. The boy only smiled slightly, his lips straightening again almost immediately. He had grown quieter and withdrawn over the last three days, since Bella told him they were going back to Indian Prairie. Watching Chris, Luke didn’t know what to do to make him understand the old life he hated was gone. Over.

Bella leaned forward and searched the road ahead. He saw happiness sneak into her smile, and it made him smile, too. Another three miles and they’d be at the McNeil ranch house.

“Mama sounded very excited yesterday,” Luke said. “I’ll bet she’s already up and cooked everything in the kitchen.”

Bella laughed. “You know Mama very well.”

“The funny thing was she didn’t seem to care about us. She just kept shouting her ‘nietitos presciosos’ were coming.”

Bella’s eyes shined with moisture. She turned a watery smile to him. “She loves them very, very much. Both she and Papa. How many people have I wronged because of Deacon?”

Luke shook his head and put his hand on Bella’s knee. His fingertips caressed her soft skin. “Deacon did the wronging, not you, Sweetheart. Things are going to be different from now on.”

They reached the McNeil driveway, and Luke pulled down it to the house. Christopher leaned forward, as far as his seatbelt would allow, and pressed his palm against the window. As soon as the car stopped, the boy released the constraint and pushed the door open. He tore across the yard to be met at the door by Lourdes McNeil. In a shower of kisses, she enveloped him in a giant hug.

Bella stepped out of the car, and slowly made her way to the porch. Luke gave her the minute she needed by getting Lucia from the car seat. By the time he stood, with the baby in his arms, Bella was with her mother. He couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but what he saw was enough.

Lourdes reached out her hand to Bella, and tears wet her cheeks. Bella took the hand offered, but stood two steps down from her mother. From the back, he saw Bella’s hair shift across her shoulders as she moved her head in conversation. Mama nodded, and tears came stronger. She pulled her daughter up the steps, and wrapped her arms around her.

A sleepy Lucia rested her head on his shoulder, and sucked loudly on her thumb. He allowed plenty of time for Bella and her mother to talk by taking Lucia’s diaper bag out of the car. Finally, he walked around the front of the car and across the yard. Bella and Lourdes turned to him as he approached, and Lourdes reached out to him just as she had her daughter.

“Luke,” she whispered through emotional tears. Her warm hand touched his cheek, which she could barely reach even from the top step, and patted it gently. She said nothing else, but immediately took Lucia from him.

Bella slipped her delicate hand into his, and together they went inside. They went to the family room where Bella’s parents sat with their grandchildren. Lucia seemed pensive, but willing to drink in the extra attention. Her big eyes moved from Lourdes to Charles to Luke, and back again. The more her grandmother made of her, the bigger her smile got around her thumb. Christopher took it all in, and sat sandwiched between the two. A large smile covered his face, and his lips hadn’t stopped flapping.

Luke put the diaper bag down, and stepped behind Bella. He wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin on the top of her head. She leaned back into him, and covered his hands with her own. Charles McNeil glanced up from Christopher’s chatter and looked at them. He stood and walked to them, his eyes intense.

“Hello, sir,” Luke said, shifting his embrace to extend his hand to Mr. McNeil.

Charles took it in a firm grip. His expression was staid and unwavering. He turned to Bella and kissed her cheek. When her father looked back at Luke, moisture glistened beneath his eyes. With feigned indifference, he cleared his throat and swiped at the dampness. Charles McNeil was not a man who often wore his heart on his sleeve.

“I don’t know all the details,” he began. “But my son has told me enough. I know I was wrong about many things, you being one of them, Luke.” Charles’ lips tightened and his chin trembled slightly.

“Papa, don’t,” Bella asked. “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of that matters.”

Charles touched his daughter’s cheek, and swallowed hard. He cleared his throat and met Luke’s stare. Restrained emotion broke the dam of his resolve.

“Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my little girl when I couldn’t.”

“Oh, Papa,” Bella said and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. He embraced her, and tears poured from his eyes.

“Te amo, Papa.” Bella’s words were muffled against his shoulder. “I love you.”

*****

“I have no doubt Deacon will be convicted of assault. There is no questioning the evidence,” Jack said, and took a long drink from his glass. “The question comes down to the sentencing. His attorney hasn’t offered any deals, since Deacon is still claiming innocence. I think they believe Deacon will get off light because he’s the Senator’s son.”

Bella shook her head, and held a salsa-covered tortilla chip near her lips. “I don’t understand him fighting the charges. I mean, he might be a twisted psycho, but I would consider him moderately intelligent.” She popped the chip in her mouth.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they hoped we’d be the ones to strike a deal.”

“He will get time, right?” Luke asked.

“Depends on the judge. I think we have enough evidence to show a brutal and dangerous side of Deacon Brodhi. Were it a perfect world, he’d get the maximum sentence allowed. But it’s not a perfect world.”

“What’s the range?”

“If convicted of Felony Assault, he could get as much as ten years in the state penitentiary. But he could get as little as a $500 fine. Maybe even less.”

Bella tapped the tabletop with her nails, and watched her brother. He met her gaze, but only for a moment, before he looked away again. She smiled wryly.

“You’re trying to prepare me for the worst.”

Jack nodded and grinned. He chuckled softly, and leaned back in his chair. “I guess. Maybe. This is just a tough one to tell. Senator Brodhi has been in the business of getting influential people in his pocket for a long time.”

She stood up and went to the refrigerator for another can of pop. “Okay, fine. The trial is the day after tomorrow. Then what?”

“He won’t be sentenced then. That will be another hearing at a later date. Maybe a week. If he’s found guilty, he’ll be taken into custody until the sentencing.”

“What about the divorce proceedings?” Luke asked.

Bella looked to him. Ever since Jack arrived and started going over their plan of attack, Luke seemed on edge. Irritable. His boot tapped an incessant beat on the tile floor, and his fingertips drummed on the tabletop. Whenever he asked a question, the words came out in short snaps.

“I think we should push to get into court as soon as possible after the assault trial. Convicted or not, it’s not going to look good for Deacon to have that on his record. Divorces are hardly ever turned down anymore. The appearance in court is more to determine dividing of the assets and whatnot.”

“How long?” The question again came from Luke.

“You’ve gone through a divorce, Luke. You know how these things can be, especially when contested.”

“How long, Jack?” His voice rumbled, like gravel on sandpaper.

Both Bella and Jack looked to Luke. A muscle jerked in his cheek from the strain of his clenched jaw.

“If it goes all the way to trial, anywhere from one to fifteen months. Worst case scenario.”

“All the way?”

“We’ll have one or more pre-trial hearings. The pre-trial is to cover all the topics that will come up in the trial. The majority of divorces don’t go all the way to trial because the parties decide to settle on their own terms. I don’t know how hard Deacon is going to buck this.”

“Can we do it without going to court?” Bella asked.

“We could try. In order to avoid court, the terms of the divorce would have to be agreed on by both parties. What you and I need to do is make a list of what you want to see happen. Assets. Alimony and child support. Custody.”

“I do not want him to have custody of any kind. And if it can be done, I don’t even want him to have visitation.”

Jack raised a hand to her outburst. “I know. Neither do I. I don’t think anyone does. How hard do you think he’ll push for custody? You told me he never showed any real interest in either one of them.”

Just as she had so many times growing up, Bella hoped up onto the counter. A movement outside caught her attention. She looked out the patio door to the courtyard beyond. Christopher and Lucia played in the protected yard. With a gentle push, her son rolled a ball to his baby sister. Lucia toddled towards it, and tried to roll it back to him. She stumbled over her own feet and tumbled to the ground. Christopher immediately picked her up, and dusted off the front of her tee shirt. Her daughter looked up at him with a toothy grin. Pure adoration, the kind only a little sister can feel for her big brother, lit up Lucia’s face.

“I remember the day he figured out I named Luka after you,” she said in a low voice, her thoughts caught up in the play outside. “I think she was six months old before it dawned on him. Christopher called her Luka one day, and I saw the anger rise up in Deacon’s eyes.”

When she turned back, Luke stood near her. His blue eyes were hard and intense. She touched his cheek. The rough furrows of his brow softened, and he turned his lips against her palm.

“I don’t know if he was madder over figuring out who she was named for, or how long it took him to get it.”

Luke didn’t speak. He leaned over and pressed his lips against her cheek for a long moment, and his hand squeezed hers. A new dose of happiness hit her veins, and she turned back to her brother.

“I think he will want custody just to spite me. And it will be the one thing he’ll fight hardest for. For years, that was his threat. Deacon promised me he had the power to take them away, should I ever try to divorce or leave him. The only reason I stayed so long was because I believed him.”

Jack nodded, his jaw set. “If he is convicted on the assault charges, this might be a non-issue. Deacon will have no custody rights in jail. And getting them after the fact will be more difficult. We might be able to wait on that battle. What else, other than the kids?”

Bella shook her head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I don’t want alimony or child support. I don’t want a single dime from him. Nothing that he can lord over my head. The only thing would be the kids' college savings plans.”

“Well, the next step is the mediation. For that, we will have to compose an extensive deposition. I’m going to have to know everything.”

She looked back outside. Christopher sat on one of the lounge chairs, with Lucia in his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder, fingers twisting his hair, while he read to her from a picture book.

Memories flooded her. Those savings accounts had been one of the instigators for Deacon that night. She couldn’t understand why a man who didn’t seemed to value her at all would attack her out of what seemed to be outrageous jealousy. But then again, he had always been that way. He raped her, which seemed to be an act of hate, only to turn around and con everyone into believing he cared for her. He threatened her, beat her, and destroyed any peace she had. Only to tell her he did it for her own good. Deacon swore he gave her anything she needed, and cursed her for the amount of work he did to do it. Why would he steal from her nearly everything she loved, and then question why she hated him?

Luke’s thumb on her cheek brought her out of her musings. She jumped, and looked to him. Embarrassed, she realized he stroked away tears.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked.

Bella kissed the back of his hand, and rested her cheek against it. “Too much to put into words.”

Bella realized Jack was gone. He must have left while she was lost in thought. She moved closer to Luke and rested against his chest. Strong, wonderfully comforting arms wrapped around her. A bubbling sorrow, like water rushing up through a geyser, overtook her. A shudder racked her body, and a sob from the depths of her soul escaped her.

Luke’s arms tightened. “Let it out,” he whispered. “Let it go, Bella.”

Bella cried. She cried for herself, for her children, and for the years lost. Tears poured like they never poured before. A decade of suppression, denial, and fear was set free then and there. The final traces of Deacon’s reign disappeared as she finally let go. The papers weren’t signed yet, and the final decisions were yet to be made, but she was free.

*****

“All rise for the Honorable Judge Hezakiah Matheson.”

Bella clutched Luke’s hand. Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage as Judge Matheson exited his chambers. He climbed the steps to his podium on feeble legs. She held her breath as he took great care in placing thick spectacles on his nose and examined the docket on his desk. Luke caressed the back of her hand, and circled her shoulders with his arm when the Judge finally looked up. Everyone in attendance sat back down except for Deacon and the two counsels.

“Well, it’s pretty clear what my ruling on this case must be,” he began.

His weak voice barely carried across the small courtroom. Judge Matheson was eighty-five if he was a day. Flimsy white hair fanned from his scalp, and a permanent frown turned the corners of his mouth downward. This man had sat on the bench for nearly fifty years. He looked over the top of his spectacles at Deacon.

“I’ve known you, Deacon, since you were knee high to a grasshopper. I surely do hate to see things like this happen to young men such as yourself.”

In feigned shame, Deacon dropped his chin and clenched his hands before him. His vain attempt at humiliation stuck in Bella’s throat and brought heat to her cheeks. She clenched her jaw together. The judge continued to speak. He commented on the weight of the evidence, and continuously expressed the pity and shame of the entire situation.

Judge Matheson picked up his mallet. “This court finds Deacon Nicholas Brodhi guilty of Felony Assault under Title 21 of Oklahoma State Law. Sentencing will be on Monday.” He slammed the mallet down with a bang.

Bella released her breath. Relief flooded over her.

“Your Honor,” stated Deacon’s attorney as the Judge began to stand. “If it please the court, I ask Mr. Brodhi be released on his own recognizance until sentencing.”

“Your Honor, I object,” Jack immediately protested.

“Overruled,” Judge Matheson shot back. “This is a first offense, and Mr. Brodhi holds a respectable place in the community. I see no problem with Counsel’s request.”

“First offense, my ass,” Bella mumbled.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Deacon’s attorney said and vehemently shook Deacon’s hand.

The spectators in attendance stood and milled around the courtroom. Low conversations drifted through the air. Jack turned to them and embraced his sister.

“Well, we got the verdict we wanted. I don’t like him being on the streets until the sentencing, though. Judge Matheson is known for being soft on domestic cases, so I was afraid of something like this.”

“Will Matheson be the one doing the sentencing?” Luke asked. His hand pressed firmly against the small of Bella’s back. “Can we expect something similar?”

Jack nodded. “Unfortunately.”

They gathered their things, and headed towards the double doors. The hall outside the courtroom was packed with people, mostly local media, who crowded around Deacon and his attorney. As they approached, they heard some of the questions being shouted out, along with Deacon’s answers.

“Mr. Brodhi, how do you feel about the Judge’s decision today?”

“I’m disappointed, of course. It’s unfortunate when confusion and misunderstanding tears a family apart. I miss my wife and children very much.”

“How does Senator Brodhi feel about the accusations?”

“My father stands behind me one-hundred percent, just like everyone else who knows the truth. Abuse is not in my nature.”

“It’s been said you will be fighting the divorce your wife filed against you. Is that true?”

“Absolutely. Isabella is obviously confused and upset right now, and being influenced by individuals who do not have her best interests in mind. I have no intention of ending a ten year marriage over an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

Bella felt heat rise to her cheeks, and she clenched her fists at her side. Luke stepped towards Deacon, and she saw the rage in his eyes. She grabbed his arm.

“Luke, no,” she begged. “He’s doing it on purpose. He knows you’re here. Nothing would make him happier than to make you the bad guy.”

His nostrils flared. Bella wrapped her hands around his clenched fist. The tension left his fingers, and he turned his hand to hold hers. Luke pulled his enraged glare from Deacon, and looked down at her. Slowly, the deep furrows of his brow shallowed, and his eyes softened.

Luke’s lunge caught the attention of the mass. They descended on Bella and him, questions flying. Luke immediately pulled her against his chest. The medals pinned to his dress uniform pressed against her cheek. His arm came up to shield her from the barrage of accusations and interrogations. Jack moved between them and the crowd, acting as a legal buffer.

Jack held up a hand, and calmly requested silence. The din lowered. “We do not wish to comment at this time.”

The mass of reporters shouted out more questions, most ugly and more personal than Bella ever imagined someone would dare ask. Shock and disgust hit her. When they started in on her children, and her parental ability versus Deacon’s, she couldn’t listen any longer. Bella stepped away from Luke, and walked around her brother. Cameras flashed, and microphones vied for the best position to catch her quote.

Bella blinked against the lights shining in her eyes. She clenched and released her fists, and took a deep breath. “I realize that whatever I say is going to be contorted, distorted and manipulated to mean anything you want, but I’m going to say it anyway. Deacon Brodhi is the lowest form of human life. The only reason I’ve been married to him for ten years is because he had me too terrified to leave. I’m not afraid anymore. And I will not allow my children to live in fear any longer.”

“Where have you been for the last month?” a voice called out. “Why did you abandon your husband, and keep his children from him?”

Bella’s jaw dropped in astonishment at their audacity. Jack stepped up beside her. “Had you, as members of the media who carry the burden of truth, verified your facts through documents held as public record, you would know the answer to that question. A ruling by Judge Natalie McNamara, as part of the criminal trial and divorce proceedings, allowed my client to remove herself and her children from a potentially dangerous environment.”

“What about Luke Mitchell?”

Luke stepped to her side. “What about me?” His powerful voice was a delicious caress to Bella’s frazzled nerves, but its deep timber immediately drew total attention.

The crowd suddenly went silent, and confusion filed their faces. Then the flashes began again. Bella looked at him, to see if she could know what surprised them. But there was nothing strange about him. He wore his dress uniform and Ranger beret. The badge of his unit stood out against the black felt of the chapeau. Gold braiding looped beneath his arm and attached at his shoulder. His numerous badges and medals spread in neat rows on the left breast of his jacket, and starch white gloves covered his hands. He looked powerful, virile, masculine and incredibly handsome.

A woman reporter in the front row finally spoke. “You came back to Oklahoma to be with Mrs. Brodhi?”

He nodded, his face stoic and unyielding. His uncompromising expression stated without words there would be no further comment. When the uniform went on, Luke took on a different persona. To her, he was the same. But to everyone else he became more distant and nearly silent. He spoke little, and smiled even less.

The revelation Luke was there, by her side, seemed to squelch the fire of the media. Questions stopped, and the camera flashes soon after. The herd disbursed and finally allowed them to leave the courthouse. The oppressive heat outside was a rude slap after the air-conditioned interior of the municipal building.

“What was that all about?” Bella asked her brother. “Why did they act so strange when Luke spoke? And how did they know to ask about him? I thought no one knew where I was.”

“The first story about you being with Luke came out three days before Deacon called you there. He would like people to believe that’s how he found out. But I don’t believe it.” Jack smiled and nodded. “As far as Luke himself goes, I think we just gave them a rude awakening.”

They walked down the steps of the huge building together. Luke moved with perfect grace, one hand tucked behind his back, and the other holding Bella’s elbow. She stole a glance at him, and her stomach tumbled. His aftershave, mingled with the masculine scent his uniform seemed to hold, made her weak in the knees.

“Why is that?” he asked.

“According to the information leaked to the press, Isabella has been unfaithful to Deacon for years. They’ve even brought the kid’s paternity under question. But the shock was the comparison between the actual Luke Mitchell, and the image Deacon created of you.”

“What were they expecting?”

Jack chuckled again, and stopped at the bottom of the steps. “According to him, Luke is a drunken redneck who lives in a dilapidated shack in the back woods of Maine. You were dishonorably discharged from the military and have been sniffing around after Isabella for years–since Deacon stole her away from you. You’re uneducated and dirt poor. To see you in full dress uniform, obviously well decorated for your service to our country, totally blew the image.”

Bella chuckled. “Good. Let them chew on that for awhile.”

Jack pointed down the street. “I had to park down in front of the bank. You two stay right here, and I’ll drive up.” He walked down the sidewalk, and left them at the bottom of the courthouse steps.

Bella turned to Luke and looked up to him. His gaze moved over her face in the familiar way that made her stomach flip. He moved closer, and took her hands in his. The soft material of his gloves caressed her skin. Luke lifted their joined hands and turned hers over, palm up. His thumbs worked the sensitive flesh.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice thick and heavy.

Bella nodded. “I didn’t get upset until we came out and heard Deacon with the reporters.” She huffed. “I can’t believe the lies he’s made up. Especially about you. And the fact that none of them bothered to check on any of it.”

He touched her cheek. “Bella, they’re printing what makes the best headlines. Most of them don’t care what the truth is. It’s not sleazy enough. The people who know us know the truth.”

“Your mom doesn’t,” she stated. Luke had told her his mother’s opinion of the situation. She said, for all intent and purpose that she had known all along Bella would bring Luke nothing but grief and heartache.

Luke smiled slightly, but it was a wry and conciliatory grin. “Like I said, baby. The people who know us.”

Bella stepped into the circle of his arms and pressed her cheek against the light wool of his uniform. His chin rested on the top of her head, and his hands worked up and down her back. A heavy sigh lifted her shoulders, and its release drained the tension from her muscles.

“Mrs. Brodhi? Mr. Mitchell? Excuse me,” called a woman’s voice near them.

Bella stepped away from Luke to see one of the reporters from inside. On second glance, she realized it was the woman who spoke to Luke after he confirmed who he was. The reporter appeared nervous, and stood with her hands clenched before her. Luke’s arm stayed behind her, but he turned to the woman as well.

“Yes?” Bella asked.

“I’m sorry to bother you. But I wonder if I could speak to the two of you for a moment.”

“I really don’t want to hear any more lies or—”

“Oh, no,” the woman interrupted. “I know. Actually, that’s what I wanted to speak with you about.” She stepped closer to them. “I want to report your side of the story.”

Bella must have looked shocked, because the woman burst out again. “I don’t believe things are the way they’ve been reported as up until now. Not knowing the things I heard ten years ago.”

“What do you mean?” Bella asked.

She smiled slightly. “I think we might have met a matter of four or five times. My name is Kristy Johansen. Your friend Brian is my cousin.”

Bella searched her memories quickly. She remembered meeting some of Brian’s family one summer. There had been a very nice girl with blonde hair just a bit older than them. Brian introduced her as his cousin Kristy. Slowly, she nodded.

“Yes, I think I remember.”

“My point is that I remember some of the things Brian told me about the two of you in high school. He really loved you two. I’d talk to him over the holidays and whatnot, and he would just go on and on. But it was always such good things. Brian told me he never saw two people love each other as much as the two of you.”

A warmth wrapped around her heart. “How is Brian?”

“Where is he?” Luke asked. “I tried to find him several times without any luck.”

“He has a small parish in Utah.”

“Parish?” Luke and Bella said together.

Kristy smiled and nodded. “Yes. He’s now Father Brian.” Her face waxed serious again. “But it’s because of the things he told me I know there’s more to your story.”

Trepidation sat heavy in Bella’s stomach. She hated Deacon held such power to spread ugly lies, but she didn’t want to feed the fire. Jack pulled up to the curb, and got out of his car to join them. He nodded in Kristy’s direction in acknowledgement.

“I understand your concern. But I think you should know your husband is doing an interview with another reporter from my paper. It’s my plan to run the two interviews together. You have a chance to tell your side, and know people will read it.”

“I don’t care what people think of me.”

“But maybe you should. Whatever happens, you and your family have to live here when it’s all over. Your son and daughter are going to go to school here. Your parents are going to work here, and shop here.” She opened her briefcase and removed several newspapers and local tabloids. “This is the kind of thing they see now.”

Bella nearly choked when she saw the photograph emblazoned across the front of the top magazine. Her heart froze in her chest, and her hands shook when she took it. It was a photograph of her and Luke on the porch of the cabin the night of the dance. The night they kissed. The photo was an explicit illustration of the passion they both felt that night. Her cheeks flushed.

“Son of a bitch,” Luke cursed.

“He was on the mountain,” she whispered. “Dear God, Luke. He was on the mountain.”

“Maybe not him, but someone who works for him,” Kristy pointed out. “This is the kind of thing being thrown in the face of your mother and father every day.”

Bella’s insides quivered with tension. The thought of someone being that close to them, defiling the safe haven of Katahdin Mountain, nearly made her knees buckle. Her stomach flipped and pain throbbed in her temples. In defense, she pressed her fingers against her forehead. Luke touched her waist, and she leaned into his side.

“That’s enough,” he stated. “We’re going back to the house so you can get some rest.”

Bella nodded. It was all too much. The heat and the stress and the reporters all piled up on her. With Luke on one side, and her brother on the other, they moved to the car. Luke held open her door for her. Before she sat down, Bella turned back to Ms. Johansen. In that moment, she made a decision.

“I’ll do your interview,” she stated. “Come to my parents’ home at nine o’clock tonight and I’ll tell you the truth.” Bella looked from Kristy to Luke. His beautiful blue eyes looked back at her. “All of it.”

Chapter Twenty

HE SAID - SHE SAID! READ BOTH SIDES OF THE STORY!

Bella read the headline again, and examined the photograph. It filled the entire front fold. One side was a shot of Deacon outside the courtroom as he spoke with reporters. The other picture was of her and Luke at the bottom of the courthouse stairs. She actually liked that one. Luke looked incredibly handsome in his uniform. They caught the moment when he reached up to touch her cheek. It was a very sweet, poignant photograph. Later on, she planned to cut out the shot for her memory book. The rest of it would go straight to the trash.

The two stories were as different as night and day. Bella’s interview showed the dark, gruesome side to a decade of fear and abuse. The language was matter-of-fact and honest. Reading it now, she was thankful for consenting to the interview with Kristy. Once she knew Kristy was Brian’s cousin, Bella knew she could trust the woman. The story printed in the paper confirmed it for her.

Deacon’s side painted him to be the wounded party in a marriage he fought to salvage from the beginning. According to him, Bella was never happy despite his best efforts to love her and his children. It reeked of lies and falsehoods, and the quotes were elaborate, forced and obviously written by someone other than Deacon.

Bella tossed the paper aside and swirled her feet in her parents’ swimming pool. At the shallow end, Christopher and Lucia splashed and laughed playfully. The hot sun beat on Bella’s exposed back, but the cool water between her toes was enough to counteract the Oklahoma heat. With her eyes closed, she turned her face up to the sky.

Music being played in the hacienda grew louder for a moment as the sliding door opened and closed again. Bella listened as footsteps moved across the gravel to her. She opened her eyes and shielded them with her hand when Luke reached her. He stood over her, dressed only in black swim trunks, with two glasses of iced tea in his hands. She touched his thigh, and the solid muscles tensed beneath her palm.

“Looks delicious,” she said as he sat down.

With a sinister grin, Luke leaned close to her and purposefully ran one ice-cold glass across her breasts. She gasped at the chilly contact, and flushed at her body’s reaction. Luke hummed and moaned as he drew the glass along her collarbone.

“You,” he whispered, “are delicious.”

His lips covered hers. Luke’s mouth tasted of sugar and tea. Her body ached for his touch. But a loud, happy shout of laughter from Christopher broke the hypnotic spell. Luke pulled back, his fingertips running along her jaw. Seductive desire glistened in his blue eyes.

Words hung on her tongue, longing to be said. Her mouth opened, but she fought down the need to tell him the intense love in her heart. She couldn’t say it. The wonderful gift of having him, even if for a short time, was a spell just three words could destroy. Bella didn’t have the strength to risk it yet. Not yet.

“You’re being awful daring today,” she managed to say. “Aren’t you worried about what the kids see?”

“No,” he answered. His calloused fingertips brushed her temple and followed the curve of her ear. A luscious shiver ran over her body. “What they see is me adoring you.”

“They’re going to grow up thinking their mother is a loose woman,” she joked.

“Lucky for me.”

One corner of his lips lifted, and his gaze held hers as he slipped off the wet tile into the cool water of the pool. He offered his hands, and she took them as she eased off the edge, leaving their glasses of tea at poolside. Luke disappeared under the surface and popped back up, his arms wrapped around her body. In the water she felt weightless, and he lifted her until his chin rested near the valley between her breasts. The rough bristles of his mid-afternoon whiskers ran across her skin. Every nerve ending was alive and super-sensitized to his touch and his texture. Her body ached for him.

“I think we should come back out here tonight–alone,” he said with a wink.

Bella laughed. The sweet joy of his affection bubbled through her. “Mama and Papa will be home by then.”

“Oh, I’m talking much later in the night.”

He let her body slide down his. The water made his skin slick, and she worked her fingertips in the damp black curls dusting his tight chest. Luke drew her ear between his teeth, and her breath caught. In a subtle move, he drew her legs around his waist and pressed her back against the wall of the pool. Bella’s fingernails dug into his bare shoulder blades when his hard ridge pressed into the apex of her thighs. She fought to keep her breath steady.

“I want to be like this,” he whispered hoarsely and moved against her. “But I want to be inside you.”

“Luke,” she moaned.

“Mama,” Christopher yelled. “Will you play Marco Polo with us?”

Bella’s pulse throbbed at the base of her throat and she dipped below the water as Luke released her. She swam beneath the surface until she reached the kids, and then came out of the water near Lucia. The water calmed her ravaged senses as it flowed over her body. Her insides quivered, but her pulse slowed once there was some distance between her and the fuel that ignited the red-hot fire in her blood.

“Sure,” she answered her son.

*****

Luke watched Bella rise out of the water and groaned internally. Her head tilted back and her hair hung straight and black down her back as water sluiced off her body. She was the type of woman who drove you crazy because she was pure sexuality and absolute femininity but had no idea the immense power she held. Perfection, beauty and woman came together in one wonderful package. When he thought of the women he had known in the years since high school, he knew not one of them came close to the flawlessness of Bella.

She picked up Lucia, and the little girl squealed with a toothy grin. The smiles across their faces were genuine and happy. It made him feel good to see it. Bella hadn’t smiled much in the last few days. Certainly not as much as when they were home in Maine. Everything weighed too heavy on her. The face she put on was strong and independent, but he knew it belied the concern and frazzled nerves beneath the surface. Luke wished she would let some of it go and lean on him more. Soon it all would be over, and they could go home again. Not nearly soon enough, as far as he was concerned.

He turned to take a drink of his iced tea, and saw the tabloid lying open on the blue tile. While Bella and the children played and splashed, he flipped the pages to Bella’s interview. Most of it he just skimmed over. Luke was happy to see Kristy stayed true to her word on the integrity of the interview. Nothing was taken out of context, and all the quotes were just as she said them with nothing added or left out. His eyes moved to the end of the piece and read Kristy’s impression of him with the children.

During the interview with Mrs. Brodhi, her young son Christopher came downstairs. It warmed my heart to see how quickly Luke Mitchell moved to take care of the children. And, it was plain to see Isabella’s son was comfortable with this man who has just recently come into his life. With such an apparent connection between him and the boy, I was moved to ask her the obvious question.

Rumors and accusations her children were not fathered by her husband have been rampant. When I ask her if Luke Mitchell was the father to either of them, her reply was this: “No. Many times over the last ten years, I’ve almost wished he were. >From the time he got on the bus for Basic Training, until I woke up in Maine a few weeks ago, I never laid eyes on him. Regardless of what my husband believes.”

Luke looked over his shoulder. Bella sat on one of the steps into the pool with Lucia on her lap. The baby’s hair curled in hundreds of tiny ringlets all over her head, with a small bunch tied straight up in a pink ribbon. She giggled and clapped her hands when Christopher bounced a giant red ball. Water splashed in Bella’s face and she laughed. He smiled, and turned back to the article.

Kristy went on to refute the images of Luke that Jack warned them about. She gave a brief rundown of Luke’s military career, and the wood mill he ran with his father. Inserted near the paragraph was his portrait in full dress uniform. Luke wished there was more focus on Bella, and less on him, but he understood Kristy’s motivation.

People questioned the environment Bella chose to keep her children in. Until now, most thought it was unsavory and harmful. To counter with the truth might help ease public opinion. In the end, it was the judge’s decision to make, but Kristy pointed something out to them even before the interview. Bella’s family still had to live here. He started to push the paper aside, but something in the final paragraph brought his attention back.

For now, Isabella remains in limbo. She is still a married woman, but shackled to a man who has done nothing but harm and hurt her. Until she is free, she knows not what the future holds for herself and her children. Where will she be when this is done? Where will she go? She doesn’t know. When I asked the question about the future, I expected a very different answer than what I got. Seeing her with Luke Mitchell, and the concern and affection in his eyes for her, I assumed they would live the fairy tale. But her answer was simple and sad. “I don’t have an answer for you,” she told me. “I simply don’t know.”

Luke slowly put the paper down. He turned once again to the small group at the shallow end of the pool. Bella looked up, and when their gaze met, she smiled. Powerless and unwilling to fight her effect on him, Luke smiled back. With a slight inclination of her head, Bella invited him to their end. Warmth spread across his mid-section and he dipped beneath the water to swim to them.

As they played with the children, Luke’s thoughts returned to the article. When he had come back to the living room from seeing to the kids, he heard Kristy ask Bella, “What about Luke?” He realized now in what context the question had been asked. What about the future? Was there one with him? Kristy asked about him because of Bella’s ambiguous answer before.

Luke had no reason to question the quote. Everything else in the article was on the money. Not a single quote was altered in any way that he could see. How could Bella question what would happen when this was done? Wasn’t it obvious? Didn’t she know?

But how could she? In retrospect, he realized not once had either of them spoken a word about actually being together. In reality, this new relationship was just weeks old. A dream created ten years before suddenly come true, but not once had they actually sat down and talked about it. Luke merely assumed she knew everything was just as it should have always been. Everything they said before was also true now.

“I think it’s time to go in and have some lunch,” Bella said, and interrupted his thoughts. “Luka is just about ready for her nap.”

Luke scooped up the little girl and tickled her ribs. She squealed and squirmed in his arms. With both kids wrapped in giant towels, they headed into the house.

“Will you get them some new clothes while I start lunch?” Bella asked, and touched his arm as she walked by.

Every organ in his body clenched at the nonchalant contact. How did he get through a day without Bella to make him feel alive?

“Sure,” he answered.

He got the kids changed into dry clothes, and ushered them back into the kitchen. Bella turned with a plate of sandwiches and set them on the table. Luke grabbed a pitcher of juice to pour their drinks. As Bella chattered with the kids, he ran through every moment and conversation in the last several weeks. The more he remembered, the angrier he grew with himself. How could he have not told her?

Bella touched his arm, and he jerked. Lost in thought, he had slammed a cup down on the counter. When he turned, three sets of black eyes stared at him.

“What’s wrong?” Bella asked in a whisper.

Luke took a deep breath through his nostrils, and attempted to give a convincing smile. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

Bella kept her eyes on him for another moment before she took the offending cup to fill it with juice. He leaned back against the counter and watched her. She moved with grace, poise and delicacy. Still dressed in her bathing suit, she tantalized his senses with each movement. The damp Lycra stretched across her bottom called out for a firm tap. He took a deep breath, but it did nothing to lessen the physical reaction to those beautiful hips.

“You two eat up,” Bella said to her children. “Mom’s gonna go jump in the shower.”

Bella winked and smiled in his direction before she walked down the hall. Luke grinned, and sat down with the kids while they finished lunch. As soon as Lucia was done, he laid her down for her afternoon nap. Then he left Christopher reading a book in the living room, and made his way to Bella’s bedroom. He slipped silently through the door, and grinned wickedly. Her sweet singing carried over the gentle sound of the shower. At the door to the bathroom, he paused.

Through the textured glass of the shower door, he watched her curvaceous silhouette. She lifted her arms to rinse the last traces of shampoo from her hair, and the outline of her breasts brought an immediate response from his body. Luke slipped off his trunks and moved into the humid room.

Bella shrieked and jumped when he opened the shower door. Her look of surprise was immediately replaced by a slow smile. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him into the wet heat of the shower.

“I was beginning to wonder,” she whispered deep in her throat. Her voice was sexy and seductive. “I almost gave up on you.”

He covered her mouth in a ravenous kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips, and she met the hunger of his need with equal fervor. The erotic sensation of her soapy, wet skin beneath his palms fueled his desire and his hands kneaded her soft body.

Effortlessly, Luke lifted her slight frame. They repeated the erotic foreplay from the pool as her legs wrapped around his waist. Bella gasped when her back pressed against the cold tile wall. As his hands explored her slippery body, his mouth sipped and bit sensitive flesh. He drew one beaded nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. She moaned loudly. Her fingertips pressed into his scalp and held him in place.

With tremendous effort, Luke lifted his head and searched her face. Bella’s lips parted in short pants, and her eyelids fluttered.

“Bella,” he said in a heavy, hoarse whisper. “Bella, look at me.”

Her brown eyes were even darker with passion, and she met his gaze. Water poured over her hair and ran in trails down her face, spiking her long lashes. He took in every detail of her face. With her weight supported between him and the wall, Luke touched her cheek and throat in a long caress that continued down the swell of her breast. Bella’s back arched to meet his touch. Luke moaned.

“You’re beautiful,” he said through the moan. “Bella, listen to me.”

“What?” she purred.

“Marry me.” Bella’s eyes snapped open, and her jaw dropped. “Marry me, Bella,” he said again.

Bella covered her lips with a shaking hand. Tears mingled with the rivulets of water on her cheeks. She smiled through a small sob, and nodded rapidly. A whispered word crept through her cries.

“Is that a yes?”

She nodded again, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Luke pressed his face into the damp curve of her neck, and his hands pushed against her back to bring her as close as possible. His passion burned hot again, and he felt the rhythm of Bella’s breath grow faster beneath her ribs. Her lips pressed into his shoulder, and her fingers drew animated patterns over his back. Wet skin against wet skin did nothing to quench the friction building between their bodies.

“I love you, Bella,” he muttered against her throat. “You are my life.”

“—love you,” she gasped.

To finally end the sweet agony, he pushed her back against the wall and drove himself inside her. Hot water poured over their joined bodied as he made love to her.

*****

“Is there anything else you need, Mama? Other than the milk?” Bella asked as she moved to open the car door.

Bella and Luke sat in the front seat of her parents’ minivan. She looked back to where her mother and father sat directly behind them. The kids dozed in the very back seat. It was nearly ten o’clock and they were on their way home after going to dinner in Tulsa with Jack and Christine.

Lourdes and Charles were nearly as happy about their daughter’s engagement to Luke as Bella herself. Her mother cried, and her father immediately insisted on buying dinner for all of them. Bella still floated on cloud nine, and the smile on her face had not faded in the least.

“No, just milk,” Lourdes answered.

“You sure you don’t want me to run in with you?”

Bella shook her head and leaned over to kiss Luke’s cheek. “Nope. But if I’m not back in five minutes, send in the Marines.” Luke gave her a look of mock anger. She laughed. “O-kay. Send in the Rangers.”

She jumped out of the car and practically skipped across the parking lot into the convenience store. This was the only place in Indian Prairie open at ten on a Sunday night. Country music played over the speaker system inside, and she headed to the back of the store for the cooler.

With a gallon of milk in hand, Bella headed up and down the aisles in search of her mother's favorite cookies. She thought she would surprise Mama when they got home. Unfortunately, Bella realized a store like this carried only the bare necessities and a hearty supply of junk food. They didn’t have the raspberry jam–filled cookies she wanted. She rounded the corner near the liquor cooler, and froze in her tracks.

Deacon Brodhi’s large frame filled the entire aisle. Frozen in her tracks, Bella couldn’t find the ability to walk away. Deacon turned, and his bloodshot glare bored a hole straight through her. A condescending grin crossed his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said with a snorted chuckle. “Darling. Fancy meeting you here.”

Bella smelled the sour stench of hard liquor that hung to his clothes and breath. Her stomach lurched and her lungs burned. The grating sound of his voice knocked her out of her trance. Once the shock of seeing him was gone, she felt nothing but loathing for him. No fear. No dread. Just revulsion. Without speaking a word, she turned on her heel and headed toward the front of the store.

Deacon’s boots thumped on the linoleum and he grabbed her arm. He spun her around with such force she lost her balance and stumbled against a display of potato chips. Several bags fell to the floor. Her gallon of milk hit the linoleum and burst. White fluid spread out in a huge puddle.

“Don’t walk away from me!” he screamed. His voice boomed through the empty store. “You’re still my fuckin’ wife, and you’re not allowed to walk away from me.”

“Go to hell!" Bella shouted.

“I called the police,” the young clerk called from behind the counter with a nervous twitter in her voice. “They’re on their way.”

Deacon ignored the warning, and yanked again on her arm. She slammed against his chest and immediately pushed back.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

“Shut up!” he screamed at her. His face was mere inches from hers, and she could see his pulse pound at the base of his throat.

“No,” she shot back. “You’re drunk. As usual.”

“I bet you thought that story in the paper this morning was amusing, huh, Izzy? How long did it take to make that bullshit up?” Deacon’s upper lip curled, and spittle hit her cheek when he spoke. “You embarrassed me–again.”

“It’s the truth. You know it. And I know it. Now the whole damn state knows it!”

Bella fought her body’s involuntary cringe when Deacon drew back his fist. Her arms came up in defense and she screamed.

The grip on her arm released with a jerk. She stumbled back against the cooler door and opened her eyes as Luke nailed Deacon with his fist. Deacon flew backwards against the shelving unit. Bottles of warm whiskey and cheap wine crashed to the floor. Glass shattered. The sickening odor of alcohol permeated the air. Red and brown fluid mixed with the already spilled milk. Luke grabbed the front of Deacon’s shirt, and hauled him partially to his feet. His fist came back for another blow.

“Luke, no!”

Luke stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. His jaw was set firm, and fire burned behind his indigo eyes.

“Please,” she begged in a quiet voice.

The doors of the store burst open and two local police officers ran in. Luke pulled Deacon up off the floor enough to speak to him nose to nose.

“You came close to being a dead man, Brodhi,” Luke hissed, and shoved Deacon backwards.

He stepped back and Bella rushed to him. Bella’s feet left the floor as he took her in a rough embrace. Luke set her down and held her face in his hands as his gaze moved quickly over her. She grasped his wrists.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a rushed voice. “Did that bastard hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

Luke pulled her against him again, and his arms wrapped around her like a vice. His hand cupped the back of her head, and she buried her face into his shirt. It wasn’t until now, when the adrenaline rush dissipated in her blood, did she feel the panic. Deacon was a mad man. Something had snapped somewhere in his mind, and as long as he was free, she wouldn’t be safe.

*****

“Due to the severity of the crime, and taking into consideration the events of last evening, this court sentences Deacon Brodhi to six months in county jail and the maximum fine of five-hundred dollars. During that six-month period, you are required to attend Anger Management session and Alcohol Abuse Counseling, which will continue for six months after your release.” Judge Matheson spoke with regret underlying his words. “Court is adjourned. Bailiff, take Mr. Brodhi into custody.” His gavel pounded on the desktop and echoed through the courtroom.

Chapter Twenty-One

October--3 months later

“I love you, Luke,” Bella whispered into the phone. She closed her eyes and settled down into the warm comforter of her bed. The twin bed was gigantic and lonely without Luke beside her.

“I love you, too.”

If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his breath whisper on her cheek when he said it. Emotion tightened her throat. She was so tired of this. So tired.

“I want this to be over,” Bella said, hearing the strain in her own voice.

“Oh, baby, I know. Does Jack think you’ll know today?”

“He’s not sure. It will depend on the judge,” she answered, forcing back the tears of frustration and clearing her throat.

“I’ll call you tonight to hear how it went. Good luck, and be strong. Don’t forget that Chris and I are here, waiting for you.”

Bella sighed, and pulled her legs up to her chest. “Thank you,” she said. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

They said their final good-byes and Bella reluctantly hung up the phone. It took a huge amount of effort to lift her body off the bed and head for the shower. She wasn’t looking forward to the divorce trial today. Deacon would be there. As she stepped into the steaming shower, she prayed for strength. Under the hot water, her spirits lifted slightly. She was so tired of attorneys, hearings, depositions and arguments.

As she lifted her hands to shampoo her hair, the ring on her left hand drew her attention. A warm, wonderful emotion wrapped around her heart. The overhead light in the shower caught in the diamond facets, and luminescent color danced inside the sapphire. On their first trip back to Maine, Luke came to her room and knelt on one knee to place it on her finger. Once again, with just as much emotion as the proposal in the shower, he asked her to marry him. The heirloom fit her finger as if made for it, and she remembered the wonderful glow of joy the moment gave her. That feeling hadn’t left since, except when she left Christopher behind.

One of the hardest decisions she ever made was to send Christopher to Maine to stay with Luke and Hank. They hoped, at the time, the divorce proceedings would end quickly and she would follow shortly after. Her son going to Maine allowed him to begin the school year there, and not transfer after the term began. But things dragged on, and she saw her son only once or twice a month. He seemed happy, and enjoying himself with the men, but she missed him terribly.

Luke returned to Maine shortly after Deacon’s incarceration began. Hank needed help with the mill, and Luke still had his Reserves commitment. So, they traveled back and forth whenever they could until the divorce was final. The ache she felt when they parted stayed with her until she saw Luke and Christopher again.

Bella finished getting ready and went to the kitchen. Her mother sat at the dinette and fed Lucia breakfast. The little girl clapped her hands and cheered gleefully at her mother’s entrance.

“Hey, baby girl.” Bella sat down beside her daughter. “Are you eating good for Abualita?”

“Jes Muma. Luka eats good,” Lucia proclaimed in her amateur speech. “Numa numa good.”

Bella laughed. “Tastes good?”

Lucia nodded, and eagerly took another bite of scrambled eggs. She bounced on her diapered bottom, and slapped her hands on the tabletop with a sweet giggle. Bella smiled.

Her father came in from the patio, coffee in hand. “Good morning, angel,” he said as he kissed Bella’s and Lucia’s cheeks in turn.

“Am I the angel? Or your grandbaby?” she asked, with a teasing lilt.

“Both.”

Warmth flowed over Bella, and mingled with all the other wonderful, sweet emotions swirling around her heart. Since coming back to Oklahoma and staying here for the last few months, her relationship with her parents changed. Especially with her father. She could sit and talk to him now. Something she hadn’t done in years. Not since she was very little, and the conversations focused around baby dolls and her friends at school. More importantly, they could sit in silence and not feel stifled or unease. The comforting presence of each other seemed enough.

“We’ll leave in another fifteen minutes. Mrs. Martinez offered to watch Lukaa, so if you want, we can drop her off on the way,” Charles added.

“I think that would be better. I don’t know how long this is going to be today. And if things get nasty, which I’m sure Deacon will try, I don’t want her there.”

“Did you talk to Chris?” Lourdes asked.

“No, he already left for school. But Luke said he practiced the math with Christopher last night, and was sure he would do fine on the test. They’re coming in Friday night for the weekend.”

Her mother smiled. “Que bueno.”

“Good,” exclaimed Charles from the kitchen. “I want Luke to take a look at that tractor with me. Darn thing keeps skipping.”

Bella laughed. “You’re already treating him like a son-in-law, Papa.”

She heard her father’s deep chuckle. “I guess I am.”

“You two have a date yet? Huh?”

“Not yet, Mama. We need to wait until I know when this will end. I would hate to have a date set up, only to find out when it comes the divorce isn’t through yet.”

Lourdes shrugged in agreement, and fed a piece of toast to the baby. They lolled around for several more minutes before leaving for the courthouse. Lucia was ecstatic to see Mrs. Martinez, who had two young grandchildren of her own.

The publicity around the divorce had died down, and Bella was thankful for it. They walked unhindered into the courtroom, and Bella took her seat beside her brother before the Judge’s bench.

Judge Natalie McNamara entered the room, and they all stood. Without much formality, she motioned for everyone to sit. The Bailiff announced the name and case number, and Bella twisted her hands in her lap. The Judge looked down at the paperwork before her, her lips turned downward and a deep furrow in her brow.

“She’s looking at the transcripts of the pre-trial hearings,” Jack whispered. “They were delivered to her on Friday, so she’s reviewed them already. But I know she prefers to have them with her during the trial.”

Bella nodded at Jack’s explanation. She watched the woman on the bench intently. Bella had not met Judge McNamara before, but she knew this was the woman Jack dealt with at the beginning. It was Judge McNamara that allowed Bella to leave the state with her children, and issued the restraining order against Deacon. She was already familiar with what went on before. Judge McNamara seemed young for her position, perhaps forty but no older than forty-five. Her gray-speckled dark hair was pulled back in a stylish twist, and a lace collar lay around her neck, a compliment to the dark chocolate color of her skin. Reading glasses perched on her nose, and well-manicured fingers pushed them into place.

She finally looked up from the papers. Her gaze fell first on Deacon, and Bella saw her furrowed brow deepen further. When she looked to Bella, an almost indiscernible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Relief rushed through Bella, and she attempted to smile back. Her hands shook furiously beneath the table.

Judge McNamara removed her glasses and folded her hands on the bench. “Well, I don’t often hear divorce trials these days,” she began. Her voice was authoritative and firm. “Counsel for the Plaintiff, please begin.”

Jack stood, and rounded the front of the table. He rested his hand on the warm wood behind him, but stood so Bella had a clear view of the Judge, and the Judge of her.

“Thank you, Judge McNamara,” he began. “Your Honor, my statement is going to be short today because I don’t feel this situation requires much. My client has only one request in this entire proceeding, and it is fully justified. Isabella McNeil-Brodhi wants full and complete custody of the children. Given the circumstances, it would be in their full and best interest to grant that to her. She asks for nothing else from Mr. Brodhi, excluding the college savings accounts previously established for her children. No alimony. No child support. No splitting of assets. No house. No car. “

Jack moved towards the Defendant’s table, and Bella took a steeling breath before she looked in that direction. She hadn’t dared glance that way since coming into the room. There he sat, arrogant and condescending despite the orange jumpsuit and restraints he wore. Their eyes met, and her husband sneered maliciously, a glint of superiority in his eye. Bella’s breath caught, but she refused to look away and give him the satisfaction.

“Why would a woman who is married to a wealthy and successful man ask so little? For the love and safety of her children.” Jack stopped on the other side of the table from where Deacon sat, a flip of his hand indicating of whom he spoke. “We aren’t here for a criminal trial, Your Honor. That has already happened, and Mr. Brodhi was found guilty. That fact is a matter of record. But it is on those grounds I implore this court to grant my client what she seeks.”

“You said yourself not many divorces come this far. Usually because the two parties come to an amicable agreement. In this case, that could not happen. In the last three months, the defendant and his attorney have offered numerous ‘pay-offs’ to convince my client to give up her parental rights. It’s all there, in the transcripts. But on this, she has stood firm. Her unwillingness to yield is a testament to the love for her two young children.”

“Based on the known history of mental abuse and violence, and the lack of monetary responsibility requested, we ask you grant this divorce with the stipulations provided.”

Jack came back and sat down, confidence and poise apparent in his face and stature. Judge McNamara made no comment, but indicated with a nod and flip of her hand to the other table they could begin.

Deacon’s attorney spoke for nearly ninety minutes, and from what Bella could tell, about nothing at all. It was as it had been in every hearing. All talk and no substance. By the end, even the Judge seemed disinterested. She sat back in her large chair, her chin supported on slender fingers. With one final pathetic plea to allow a father to raise his children and a statement about his ability to care for them in a more proper manner, the attorney sat down.

Judge McNamara studied them for several long moments before shifting in her seat. She folded her hands and her eyes shifted between Bella and Deacon.

“I’m going to ask some questions here, and I want the answers to come from the plaintiff and defendant whenever possible. Is that understood?” Everyone nodded. “Mrs. Brodhi, what are your plans once this divorce is final?”

Jack motioned under the table for her to stand, and Bella did so on shaky legs. She cleared her throat. “I have plans to remarry, Your Honor,” she squeaked. Bella took a deep breath before speaking again. This time she forced confidence into her voice. “I am engaged. My fiancé lives in Maine. I will move there and raise my children there.”

The Judge nodded. “Did you have an affair with this man prior to filing for divorce from your husband?”

Bella was shocked. This woman pulled no punches. “No, Your Honor. Until going to his home at my attorney’s request, I had not spoken to nor seen Mr. Mitchell for over ten years.”

“What does Mr. Mitchell do?”

“He and his father own a business together.”

“Is this a business which will sufficiently support a family of four?”

Bella opened her lips to speak, but realized she didn’t know the answer. She never thought to discuss such things with Luke. With alarm, she realized she didn’t know. Panic tightened her throat, and she looked to Jack.

“Mrs. Brodhi?” the Judge urged.

Jack stood, mercifully, and Bella took a breath. “Your Honor, I might be able to better answer that for my client. In the last several months she has been more preoccupied with the hearings, so I took it upon myself to discuss matters of finance with her fiancé.”

Bella looked from Jack to the Judge. She felt lost and foolish for not knowing the answer to such an important and basic question.

The Judge nodded. “Fine. In your opinion, is this business sufficient to support a family of four?”

“More than sufficient, Your Honor. As of September 30^th of this year Mr. Mitchell’s net worth, including both liquid and non-liquid assets, equaled two-point-seven million dollars. Based on company growth in the last five years that, net worth could be expected to grow well over seven-point-four million dollars in the next ten years.”

Bella’s jaw dropped, and she forced her lips back together before completely embarrassing herself. She had no idea. Jack turned his head just enough to wink at her so it might not be seen by the Judge, and sat back down. With Herculean effort, Bella turned her attention back to the Judge.

The Judge seemed unfazed by the revelation, and turned to Deacon. Bella sat as Deacon came to his feet with the clatter of chains. Judge McNamara’s frown deepened.

“What is left on your sentence, Mr. Brodhi?”

“Three months.” His answer was short, and bordered on discourteous.

She hummed in response. Her eyes roved the paperwork before her. Without looking up, she asked her next question. “What is your son’s middle name?”

Bella held her breath, and watched Deacon. Charles. Her mind whispered the answer. Deacon cleared his throat, and his eyes darted to her, but he didn’t speak.

“Did you hear the question, Mr. Brodhi?” the Judge asked.

“Yes.”

“Did I not hear the answer? What is your son’s middle name?”

“James,” he said in a raspy voice.

One eyebrow arched, and the Judge looked back at her papers. “And what is your daughter’s birthday?”

Deacon’s forehead dampened with perspiration, and his eyes continued to dart left and right. Bella held her breath. December 12^th.

“December – no, I mean January – the 17^th,” he stuttered.

“What grade is your son in?”

Deacon’s face flushed red, and Bella watched his fists flex in front of him. The judge’s questions made him mad. If he blew his temper, that would be it.

“I don’t know,” was his answer.

“What is your son’s birthday?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped.

Judge McNamara folded her hands, and her eyes bore down on Deacon with intensity. “Do you remember your own birthday, Mr. Brodhi?” Deacon’s eyes flared with rage, but the Judge continued unabated. “I don’t need to hear anything further. And I need no time to decide. I’ve come to a ruling.”

*****

Luke and Christopher bounced up the mountain road and sang along loudly to the song on the radio. Luke knew some of the words, but most of the pre-fabricated modern pop lyrics escaped him, so he let Chris fill in the blank spots. His preference leaned more to thundering rock ballads with screaming guitars and pounding drums than five part harmony. They pulled into the yard and Luke popped the clutch into neutral as they drifted to a stop. The song died mid-verse when he killed the engine.

“Do you have everything?” he asked. “Your backpack, jacket?”

“Yup. Can I go see the horses before I do my homework?”

“Quickly,” Luke stressed. “We’re already late for dinner.”

The boy was off in a flash, and Luke collected the groceries from the bed of the truck. He mounted the steps to the kitchen as his father burst through the door at the other end of the porch.

“Luke. Get down here. Isabella’s on the phone and I can barely understand her. She’s hysterical,” Hank shouted, and motioned for his son to hurry.

Luke dropped the bags on the porch and reached his father in three long strides. Once inside, he snatched the phone off his desk, panic thick in his throat.

“Bella?”

Immediately his ears were assaulted with babbled crying and indiscernible squeals all at once. She said something, but most of it was in Spanish and hysterical. He didn’t understand her. There was too much background noise.

“Bella, what’s wrong?”

“It’s over,” she cried. “It’s all over.”

“What? Baby, please calm down.”

He heard her take a deep breath, and her voice squeaked. “I’m at the courthouse. The Judge just ruled on the divorce. I couldn’t wait until I got home to call you.”

“She ruled today?”

“Yes. They’re mine, Luke. They’re mine. I have full and complete custody. Deacon isn’t even allowed visitation unless I agree, and even then, he has to be supervised. And he’s not even allowed to ask until he’s been out of jail for a year, minimum. It’s over! She signed the papers today. It’s over,” Bella cried.

Hot tears burned Luke’s eyes, and he sank heavily into his chair. “It’s over,” he repeated. A slow smile of comprehension pulled at the corners of his lips.

Bella grew quiet on the other end of the line. “Luke?” she whispered.

“What, Bella?”

“Come take me home.”

*****

Bella stood at the airport’s giant glass windows and stared into the black night. The lights of Tulsa shone bright just beyond the tarmac, and the running lights glowed yellow along the horizon. She clutched her own elbows with shaky hands, her arms crossed over her body. The black status screen over the arrival gate door indicated that Flight 232 from Pittsburgh was ON TIME for 11:35pm.

She glanced at her watch. 11:40.

“Now arriving at gate 10B, flight 232 out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

Bella glanced upward and smiled at the unseen voice. Another ten minutes passed before the first small group of passengers came through the arrival gate. She held her breath until her lungs burned as she waited for the rest of the passengers to disembark. A giddy joy worked its way up her body.

Luke came around the far corner, approaching the gate, searching left and right. Bella nearly jumped in the air, but restrained herself enough to raise her arm. Their eyes met, and the wide smile on his face sent a flush of heat over her skin. Happy tears blurred her vision.

He walked slowly to her, their gazes held firm. Luke reached her, and let his carry-on slide off his shoulder to the floor. Bella clutched her hands together over her breasts. He touched her cheek with his rough fingertips, and she released the pent up breath. Every part of Luke’s face smiled, for his azure eyes to the dimples in his cheeks. His lips covered hers, and the entire world fell away into nothingness. The only thing in the universe was his kiss.

His strong hands pressed against her back, and he held her so close her heels lifted off the floor. Luke’s lips were tender yet needy as they moved over her mouth. His fingers laced into her hair and held her head firmly as his tongue delved deep, stirring the hot pool of desire in her center. Bella heard herself moan. Or was it him?

He broke the kiss, and Bella gasped for air, hoping her legs would keep her standing. She opened her eyes and looked into his face. The wide smile still spread his lips.

“Wow,” Bella whispered.

“Just wait until I get you alone.” His voice hung in the air, heavy and husky.

Heat flashed to her cheeks and shot out through her body. Bella smiled and leaned into him as his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“Do you have anything to pick up?” she asked.

“Nope. I’ve got everything right here,” he said, and tapped the duffle bag. “The Army teaches you to pack light and tight. Sorry the flight is so late. It’s the best I could do in less than twenty-four hours. They charge you an arm and a leg when you book this quick.”

“I don’t mind. You told Chris?”

Luke nodded. “He was bouncing off the walls. But it was his idea to stay home. Didn’t want to miss any school.”

Bella smiled. “That’ll change in a couple of years.”

They left the airport and headed for the parking garage where Bella left the van. His comment about the price of the ticket lingered in Bella’s thoughts, and she grew quiet as they walked. They reached the van and Luke took the keys from her to open the doors. He turned to unlock her door, and she touched his arm.

“Luke, I want to ask you something.”

He gave her his full attention. “Anything.”

“During the trial, the judge asked me about finances. I think she wanted to make sure I–we–could take care of the kids.” Bella realized she skirted the issue. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how well the business was doing?”

“I did. I told you it did better when we switched our focus to specialty woods, and not bulk harvesting.”

“But you didn’t say it did that good.”

Luke’s thumb touched her lips. She stopped talking. “Does this really matter now? You had a lot on your mind. Jack knew the question would come up, so he asked me.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t. It just surprised me.”

He smiled. “Life is full of surprises.”

Feeling better, Bella nodded and opened her door. Before she climbed in, he pulled her back into another kiss. The languid heat lingered on her skin when he released her. Bella leaned back on the vehicle’s side. Her palm rubbed across the soft cotton of his shirt.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it back to Indian Prairie at this rate,” she purred.

His fingertips ran down her neck and along the swell of her breasts. Bella moaned against their immediate and intense response to his touch. Her eyes closed as his mouth branded her throat and he reached behind her to open the side door of the van. She took one quick glance around the nearly empty parking garage before following him into the back seat.

Chapter Twenty-Two

December 31st

“Isabella and Luke have written their own vows, and will say them to each other at this time,” Father Brian said to the chapel full of people.

Luke lifted Bella’s hands and pressed his lips against her knuckles before he spoke. Bella’s insides quivered with joy as she looked up at him. He was so incredibly handsome in his dress uniform; so handsome she saw nothing and no one else.

“Bella,” he began, his voice husky and strained with emotion she saw swirling behind his azure eyes. “I met you at a time in my life when I really needed a best friend. I was young, and alone, and in a new town. At eleven years old, you were everything I needed.

“At seventeen, I realized how much more you were, and how much more I wanted you to be. You were the only girl I saw. Everyone paled in your shadow. You filled my dreams, my days, my thoughts and my heart.

“The years I spent without you were empty and pointless. I didn’t realize, or maybe chose to ignore, how big a hole was left in my heart without you to fill it.” Luke took a deep breath, and Bella’s breath caught when she saw the tears glistening in his eyes. One muscle clenched along his jaw as he fought to rein in the raw emotion.

“When you came back…” He tried to speak, but the words were rough and strained.

Bella reached up and touched his cheek to soothe away the moisture. Luke smiled and turned his lips into her palm as he held her hand in place. With another deep breath, he began again.

“When you came back into my life, all the emptiness and blackness disappeared. I was given a second chance to love you, and I swear to God, you will never be without my love again.

“Bella, I promise to love you and our children until my last breath. I promise to be there for you, to protect you, to care for and support you, and to keep you in my heart forever. You will never again doubt my love.”

Bella gave up on hiding her tears. They wet her cheeks and fell in tiny drops to her bare décolletage. She held tightly to Luke’s hands and tried to speak loud enough for him to hear. The sweet emotion of his promise made her throat thick and her heartache.

“Luke, you have been my heart, my breath and my life. The love I felt for you sustained me through the years when I nearly lost hope. I thought my chance for happiness was gone.

“But then you were given to me like a gift from Heaven. God Himself has smiled on us, and given us a second chance at something only a few find once. I will not let you go again.

“Luke, I promise to love you and our children until my last breath. I promise to be there for you, to protect you, to care for and support you, and to keep you in my heart forever. You will never again doubt my love.”

“The rings.”

On cue, Christopher shoved his hand into the pocket of his tuxedo and brought out the twin rings. Father Brian bent over and their son placed the rings on his open Bible. A prayer was said over them, and Luke picked Bella’s from the pages of the book. He took her shaking left hand and held it up as he slipped the silver band on.

“With this ring I thee wed,” he said with firm conviction.

Bella took his ring from the Bible. She fought to control her hand as she slid the thick band over the joints of his finger. The silver was a drastic contrast to the sun-deepened darkness of his skin.

“With this ring,” she barely spoke, “I thee wed.”

“By the powers vested in me, by God and the Church, I now pronounce you to be husband and wife.” Father Brian’s voice boomed through the small church. “Luke, you may kiss your bride.”

Luke released her hands and his calloused fingertips touched her cheeks. She touched his chest, and he stepped closer.

“My bride,” he whispered before his lips covered hers.

A joy like none Bella had ever known or imagined flooded her soul. She floated on gossamer wings of happiness. The kiss didn’t stop. Neither seemed to want the moment to end. But they finally broke the contact, and Luke wrapped her in his arms. Her skirts rustled as he held her impossibly close.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Oh, Luke, I love you.”

They turned to their family and friends who filled the small church. Bella saw her mother wipe at her cheeks, and rest her head on her father’s shoulder. Both looked happy. A giant grin brightened Hank Mitchell’s face and he lifted a doubled hand in happy congratulations.

“It is my great honor to present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Luke and Isabella Mitchell.”

*****

“You’re beautiful.”

Bella looked up at him. “You’ve mentioned that.”

Luke chuckled, and held her hand on the tabletop. He turned her left hand over. Nestled together on her slender finger was the simple wedding band and sapphire engagement ring. The pad of his thumb shifted across them, and they moved only slightly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever say it enough.” He leaned back in his chair so his eyes could follow the curve of her waist. “How many buttons are on that dress?”

“One hundred and twenty-two.” Her whisper teased him, and a playful smirk played on her lips.

“Cruel torture,” he moaned.

Bella grinned, and kissed him. “Good thing it really closes with a secret zipper, huh?”

Luke groaned in mock agony and grinned, looking out over the crowd in the Grange Hall. This was the same hall that held the dance they attended so many months before. The last six months were a time warp. Nothing existed before the morning he turned to see her standing in his kitchen. He had never been without her. Ten years of loneliness didn’t happen. Yet that morning seemed just days ago.

Bella leaned her elbow into the table and rested her chin in her hand. “What are you thinking about?”

“How beautiful you are.”

She huffed. “Will you stop saying that?”

“There’s no other way I can explain. Everything is beautiful.”

She smiled at him, and at that moment, everything was right in the world. Luke lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Dance with me, Mrs. Mitchell.”

Her black eyes glistened, and she nodded. Luke stood, and helped her to her feet. They moved through the cluster of small tables filled with family and friends to the parquet floor. Luke pulled her into his arms with a rustle of brocade and stiff lace.

The delicious weight of Bella in his arms was a pleasure he couldn’t put a name on. It wasn’t erotic or sexual, just pure and right. It warmed him, and wrapped around him. Her hand pressed over his heart, and he held it firmly as they moved together to the slow sway of the song.

The heady scent of flowers and woman filled his senses. Luke pressed his cheek to hers to sing softly in her ear as they danced.

“…Now I find myself wanting to marry you, and take you home…”

Bella hummed. “You’re good,” she said in a husky, feminine whisper.

“Good at what?”

Her eyes held a heavy, aroused smokiness when she opened them to meet his gaze. “The first time we danced and you sang in my ear, I very nearly begged you to make love to me.” One delicious corner of her mouth turned upward. “Actually, I think I did beg.”

“And stupid me, I didn’t take you up on your offer.”

“Are you going to tonight, Mr. Mitchell?”

Luke touched her slender neck, and let his fingertips trace the dip at the base of her throat. He followed the slope to the top of her gown, which enticed without letting him see anything beyond the braided brocade collar. Black tendrils brushed his knuckles. She drew a deep, agonizingly slow breath, and the pulse at her throat jumped. Images of his wife, without the heavy brocade-wedding gown as a barrier between them, filled his thoughts. Luke smiled slowly.

“Absolutely, Mrs. Mitchell. Absolutely.”

*****

Luke sat at the head table and watched his wife move around the room. Every few minutes she turned to find him. Their eyes met, and she winked or pursed her lips in the teased promise of a kiss. The ache in his groin grew with each glance and wink. He checked his watch. It was nearly midnight. When were these people going to leave? The honeymoon suite at Emmaline’s Bed and Breakfast called unmercifully to him.

He heard Christopher yawn loudly beside him, and looked away from Bella’s swaying hips to the boy. Christopher rested his head on his folded arms, and heavy eyelids hooded his eyes. He yawned again.

“Tired, Champ?”

Chris nodded. “Is it almost New Years?”

“Almost. My dad will be taking you home soon. Your sister fell asleep hours ago on your Aunt Christine.”

The young boy sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I asked Hank somethin’, but he said I hadda ask you.”

“What’s that?”

His new son shifted in his tuxedo, and turned to look Luke straight on. “Now that you and Mama are married, am I supposed to call you Dad?”

The question shocked Luke. Christopher and Lucia, in his heart, were his children. When he vowed to love their children, it was those two he meant. But it was hard to judge or predict how Christopher felt about having a new stepfather. When his own mother re-married, Luke remembered not being too thrilled with the thought.

Luke shifted so he could lean down closer to the boy. He tried to see in Chris’ eyes what he wanted to hear, but it wasn’t there. At least not that he could see.

“Well, how do you feel about that, Champ? I guess it’s up to you, really.”

“It’s up to me?”

Luke nodded. “Definitely. Completely up to you.”

“Do you want me to call you Dad?”

A fist wrapped around Luke’s heart. Of course he did. But he wouldn’t force such a commitment from Chris. A heavy weight pressed down on his chest.

“Chris, this is up to you. I’m not going to tell you what I want.”

Chris turned away, and played with his place card on the table. He seemed to ponder Luke’s answer. Moments passed, and Luke felt an odd kind of panic at the boy’s silence. Christopher harrumphed.

“Chris.” The boy turned back to him. “Chris, I know we never asked if this was okay with you. We should have. I apologize.”

He still didn’t say anything. Christopher slumped back in the chair and swung his legs above the floor.

“Chris, do you want me to be your dad?”

Christopher nodded, and some of the weight lifted off Luke’s heart. Well, that was a step in the right direction.

“Well, do you want to call me Dad?”

Deep thought furrowed Christopher’s brow. “I never called him Dad,” he stated.

“I know.”

“I want to, if it’s okay, to call you Dad.”

Luke swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “Well, then it’s settled.”

Christopher’s face lit up. “Awesome. Does that mean your dad is my grandpa?”

Luke smiled wider. “Sure does. I know for sure he’d like it a whole bunch if you called him that.”

Chris jumped up from his chair, a second wind charging his sails, and took off across the room directly to Hank Mitchell. Luke watched as Christopher spoke to him in animated action, and threw his arms around the elder Mitchell. Hank looked up, and winked at Luke. Did life get better?

*****

“I’ll be out in ten minutes,” Bella called from inside the bathroom of their suite. “I just need to take my hair down before my head explodes. I think Christine used an entire package of hair pins and a whole can of hairspray.”

Luke smiled, and set down his dress uniform jacket in a nearby chair. “If you need any more help with that dress, I’m more than willing to offer my assistance.”

“No, I’ve got it,” she sang back. “I left out one detail before. The hidden zipper.” And the sound of releasing teeth drifted across the room.

“Tease.”

Bella winked and closed the bathroom door. Luke chuckled, and worked at loosening the collar of his uniform. He shrugged off the heavy wool jacket and laid it on the butler at the end of the bed. As he lifted their champagne from the ice bucket to work on opening the cork, the bathroom door opened, and the floor fell out from beneath him.

Bella stood in the doorway in a white silk chemise. The material clung and flowed over her curves like cream. The hem stopped mid-calf, with one lace trimmed slit up the front of her right leg almost clear to her hip. Spaghetti straps barely held the top over full breasts, and her black hair hung in riotous waves around her face and shoulders. She lifted on arm to rest it over her head on the doorjamb. The move lifted the hem slightly higher. Luke moaned.

His eyes moved down her body, following the feminine curves of her legs. Heat rushed to his groin when he saw the strappy white stiletto heels she wore. The exotic woman before him had his blood on fire.

She walked slowly across the hardwood floor. The heels clicked softly as she walked.

Fire met ice in their kiss, and both melted in the fury. Luke’s hands moved over the slippery silk, and her small fingers danced across his back and chest. They edged backwards and Luke sat back into the armchair near the bed. With a seductive glint in her eyes, Bella lowered herself into his lap, her knees finding space beside his hips. His fingers worked into the thick locks of her hair, and she opened the buttons of his shirt.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Mom, I’m going out to the barn with Dad,” Christopher shouted as he ran in the kitchen door. It slammed shut behind him loudly. He tore down the hall, coat and school bag flying, to his bedroom.

“Do you have homework?”

“No,” he shouted back. “It’s Friday.”

Bella shook her head. If he could, her son would move into the barn and live with the animals. He loved them. The door opened again, and her husband came in. Bella smiled. Husband. She loved the thought of it. Luke slid into the bench at the table beside her. Before saying anything at all, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi. I hear the two of you are going to the barn?”

Luke laughed. “I mentioned I needed to move some hay out of the loft, and he volunteered to help.” He pointed to the array of stationary on the table. “Still writing thank-you cards?”

“Well, I put it off for almost five months. I’ve got to get them done sooner or later.”

“Do you want help?”

“No. I’m actually almost done. Besides, no one can read your handwriting but me,” she teased.

With a wicked grin, Luke moved to kiss the curve of her neck. “I’m more an action man, anyway,” he hummed against her skin.

“Jeez, again?” Christopher huffed after running back into the kitchen. “All you guys do is kiss.”

“Daddy,” Lucia squealed as she followed her big brother into the room. She ran around Chris to jump into Luke’s lap. “Daddy back.”

Bella watched Luke play with the little girl for several minutes, and enjoyed how her daughter ate up the attention. Lucia giggled and squirmed when he tickled her, and threw her arms around his neck when he kissed her.

“Are we going, Dad?” Christopher asked with impatience.

Luke picked his hat up off the table, and kissed Bella one last time before standing. “I’m coming. How long until dinner?”

“Maybe half an hour. Oh, guess who called today?"

Luke was busy trying to disentangle himself from a two-year-old. “Who?”

“Mrs. Hutchins. The PTA is trying to organize an after school program. She wanted to know if I’d be interested in teaching a dance class.”

“Hey, that sounds great.”

Bella shrugged. “It won’t be until the fall. There’s not enough time left this school year to get it started. I told her I’d talk it over with you first.”

“It’s up to you, baby. Sounds like something you’d enjoy. I’ll go along with whatever you want.” He handed Lucia to her, and then motioned for Christopher to go outside. “We’ll be back in soon.”

Like the fury they arrived in, Luke and Christopher were gone again. Lucia jumped down and ran for the living room. Bella sighed and smiled. It was a sweet, satisfying chaos that surrounded her now. She loved every moment of it. The last few months of marriage to Luke held more happiness and joy than her entire life combined. To wake up every morning in his arms, and to fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his breathing, was glorious. Her son was a new boy, with an energy and curiosity born of his security here. And to Lucia, Luke was Daddy. The guy who tickled and played and tucked her in at night. The man who gave her rides on his shoulders and kissed her skinned knees.

Bella swiped at a stray tear on her cheek, and laughed at herself. It certainly wasn’t something to be crying about. She stacked the thank-you cards into neat piles and set them aside to finish on Saturday. Luke would be gone for his Reserves weekend, his last weekend away, so she planned on having some quiet time to get them done.

His plane was scheduled to fly out of Bangor at midnight. Why they made him leave in the middle of the night was something she never understood. He either left at unspeakable hours, or came home in the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes both.

As she sliced tomatoes for the salad, Rod knocked lightly on the door and walked in. “Rod, you must know by now you don’t need to knock,” Bella scolded him as she wiped her hands clean.

Rod was a bashful and quiet man, but it only made him more endearing to Bella. He pulled off his hat and looked down at the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Isabella, please.”

Rod just nodded nervously at her demand for first names. “Luke left the mail in the truck. I thought I’d bring it in for you.”

Bella took the stack of envelopes and flyers from him. “Thank you very much. Would you like a cup of coffee or something to eat?”

He shook his head and backed his way to the door again. “No, ma’am. I got to get goin’ home. The missus is waitin’ on supper for me.”

Bella waved in farewell as he disappeared back outside. A cool spring breeze gushed through before the door closed, and she inhaled deeply. There was just the slightest hint of wildflowers on it. Soon the whole mountainside would be lush and green. She survived her first New England winter, and realized she loved it.

As she munched on a piece of carrot, Bella flipped through the stack of mail. She separated the business mail into one pile, and personal or junk mail into another. Among their personal mail were two bank statements, a mailing from the church, and a plain white envelope addressed to her. Bella examined the envelope, but there was no return address, and the postmark read North Andover, Massachusetts. Who would mail her something without a return address? It was probably junk, but she set her carrot down to open it.

Bella unfolded the notebook paper inside, and her heart clutched painfully as she read the brief message.

I’m coming for you.

The sound of footfalls on the porch made her jump, and Bella quickly refolded the letter. She shoved it roughly back into the envelope, hiding it in the folds of a department store sales flyer. Bella jumped to her feet, and made it to the stove before Christopher and Luke came through the door. With enormous effort, she calmed her breathing and plastered a smile on her face.

“We’re back,” Luke announced. “Go wash up for dinner, Champ. It smells wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Bella croaked out, and cleared her throat. “The garlic bread should be done in a couple of minutes.”

Luke stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. The contact immediately calmed her nerves. His chin nuzzled into her neck, and she tilted her head.

“I’m glad this is your last weekend away."

“Mmmmme too,” he hummed. “I’m going to Washington State. No training for me this weekend. Colonel McGuire will issue the discharge papers and I’ll be home by Sunday morning.”

“Oooh, the ex-father-in-law. What’s that going to be like? Have you seen him since the divorce?”

“Several times.” Luke chuckled. “One time he told me he knew full well his daughter was a spoiled brat, and wondered how I put up with her for so long. But he was drunk at the time. So, I don’t know if he remembers the conversation.”

Bella laughed. “Do you ever see Alicia when you go out there?” She wasn’t sure where the question was coming from, but it was out before she could reconsider.

Luke rested his chin on her shoulder, and swayed their bodies left and right. “I have. The first time was awkward, I guess. We tried the small talk, fumbled around our words, and then gave up. For two people who were married, we had very little to say to each other.”

“How long were you married?”

Luke chuckled. “You’re full of questions.”

Bella turned in his arms, and latched her hands behind his neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got ten years of our lives to catch up on. Ask all the questions you want.”

“Okay. Did you want kids? With Alicia?”

Luke squinted his eyes and hummed in thought. “That’s a tough one to answer. Did I, and do I, want children? Yes. But I always knew Alicia wasn’t the woman I’d have a family with.”

“You don’t mind a pre-fab family?”

His smile was slow and sincere. “No. It almost makes me feel like I’ve caught up a little. Christopher and Lucia are the kids I always wanted.” He sighed, and his arms tightened around her.

“You make a great daddy,” she whispered. “The dad they deserve.”

“We’re washed up,” Chris yelled as he and his sister came down the hall. “Is dinner ready?”

“Please lower your voice,” Bella scolded. “We aren’t deaf, and this house isn’t so big that we don’t hear you coming.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

Luke took the lasagna out of the oven for her, and Chris went looking for his grandfather. Hank joined them from the office, where most of his work was done now, and dug in heartily to the meal.

“I think I’ve put on ten pounds since you came, Isabella,” he exclaimed as they finished. “I haven’t eaten this good in years.”

“Thank you, Hank.”

Bella looked around the table at everyone seated. Luke, his father, their kids, all nestled together around a meal. Tears came to her eyes again, and she quickly looked down. She felt foolish. Why cry over something so wonderful? Soon, the newness of their happiness wouldn’t feel so foreign and it wouldn’t affect her so much. But for now, each moment was such a gift.

Luke excused himself after the apple pie, and went upstairs to pack for his short stay away from home. Once the dishes were done, Bella went up the stairs to make sure Luke was nearly ready. She heard the shower running in the bathroom as she walked by, and went on in to their bedroom.

It was the same room she slept in since her first night on the mountain. Only on their return from their honeymoon did Luke permanently move his things back in. To everyone in the house, it appeared they kept separate bedrooms until the wedding, but every night he snuck down the hall to hold her until morning. Bella smiled. The thought of sleeping separately, after being apart for so long, was one neither could stand.

She stood near the bed and listened to make sure the water still ran. Once she was sure he would still be occupied, Bella pulled the plain white envelope from her front pocket where she stashed it before coming upstairs.

Of course, it was from Deacon. But did he mean it? Would he be so stupid, so horrible, or so cruel to try and harm her or the children after such a long a time? She knew he was released just a matter of weeks earlier, but never considered he would continue to torment her. What did he have to gain? What did he have to prove?

The shower stopped, and she shoved the envelope in the top drawer of her bureau. Within minutes, Luke came into the room covered only by a towel at his waist. Water still glistened on his chest and dripped from his black hair. Her stomach flipped at the blood-stirring sight.

“Hey, soldier,” she whispered, and cursed the nervous twitter in her voice. “Lookin’ for a good time?”

Luke grinned and kicked the door shut behind him before he tossed his damp towel on the floor.

*****

Saturday passed with agonizing slowness. Every weekend Luke spent away lasted an eternity. She never quite was able to completely convince herself he would be back. There was always a nagging uneasiness biting at her brain. But this one was harder than any before.

Bella found herself lost deep in thought several times. Either about Luke, or the threatening letter from Deacon. One moment she reprimanded herself for not telling Luke before he left, and the next she convinced herself it was the right thing to do. Only an act of God could get him out of this weekend. Besides that, it was his last, after all. If she told him, he would have spent the whole weekend worrying about her and the kids. She was convinced it wasn’t necessary.

To fill her time, she cleaned the house from top to bottom. She went through the kids clothing and boxed up the things they couldn’t wear anymore. Bulky winter clothing was switched for lighter spring and summer things. All windows were opened and a fresh breeze aired out the cabin after a winter of being shut up tight. Bella even finished some filing Hank and Luke adamantly avoided. It had stacked up over several weeks, and occupied three hours of her time. The idea of possibly making new curtains for the bedroom crossed her mind, but without a trip to town to look at patterns, the project was set aside for another day.

Erin called her mid-afternoon. For nearly an hour she forgot her own worries, and listened with anticipation to the tales her friend had to tell.

“Scott came to visit last weekend,” Erin said with feigned nonchalance. “He stayed at a hotel, but we spent Saturday and Sunday together.”

“Oh, really? I had no idea it was at the point of visitation weekends.”

“Well, when I saw him at the dance we talked a little. And at your wedding, he asked if he could call me. It’s like we’re beginning all over again, Isabella.”

“What happened? Before, I mean. What split you up?”

“It was so stupid. I don’t even remember the details anymore. I just remember fighting, and then he was gone. He packed up and moved out. Moved away. Moved on.”

“It doesn’t sound like he moved on to me. From what Luke told me, he hasn’t dated anyone seriously.”

There was a moment of silence. “Maybe I’m due for a second chance, too? You and Luke got one. I guess it’s not impossible.”

Bella smiled. “Erin, I’ve come to believe everything is possible. Good luck.”

The conversation lightened her mood and lifted her spirits. All the pieces of the puzzle that got mixed up years before were coming back together again. Brian, or rather Father Brian as she kept reminding herself, called often to check on them.

It had been a wonderful surprise to have him at the wedding, and even more wonderful to have him marry them. Luke planned the whole thing, and it was just like him to think of doing something so sweet and meaningful. He didn’t buy flowers or candy, but he remembered her favorite ice cream flavor and reunited her with old and dear friends, just because he knew it would mean so much.

After the kids were in bed, she and Hank played several games of chess, just as they had when she first came. In Hank, she saw the man Luke was, is and would be. They were so alike in so many ways. Just spending time with him calmed her.

She decided some time around eleven o’clock Saturday night everything would be fine. Deacon was blowing hot air. It was one thing to threaten and frighten a woman he knew he had control over. But he lost that control. Months ago. He had to know it by now.

That power was lost when she left his house for the last time. Without his shadow looming over her, she freed herself from his tyranny. He was dealing with more than a timid wife now. Deacon Brodhi didn’t have the balls to come looking for trouble.

When Luke got home, she would show him the letter. She didn’t like hiding things. But she knew everything would be fine.

As Bella drifted to sleep, her hand crept across the bed to rest on her husband’s pillow. With her face nestled into the soft linen, she inhaled deeply the smell of his shampoo. The same masculine, woodsy sent which provided her with peace so many months before filled her senses and let her sleep.

The morning sun shining through the open curtains roused her from her dreams. But it was more than just the warmth of the sun that woke her. Bella lay awake in the morning twilight and listened. Some noise startled her from her dreams. Maybe she heard Lucia stirring next door.

She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Luke’s plane didn’t land for another hour. With heavy limbs, Bella sat up and pulled on a pair of jeans under Luke’s oversized tee shirt.

On the balcony outside her bedroom, Bella looked down into the hall and great room. No lights were on, so Hank wasn’t up. She shook her head and flipped back her hair. It was her imagination. But since she was up, she might as well put on a pot of coffee.

In bare feet, she padded down the stairs. The house was cool, so she planned to build a fire after the coffee was started. An early morning fire would take the chill off for the rest of the day. Half asleep, she poured out the grounds and filled the coffee maker. Within seconds, the rousing scent of fresh coffee filled the kitchen.

“Mmmm. That’s better."

With a hot cup in hand, Bella walked to the other end of the cabin to the fieldstone fireplace. Now more awake, she set her mug down and reached for some kindling from the firebox. She sighed heavily. It was empty. Of course. Bella snatched a crocheted throw off the back of the couch as she headed outside.

Gooseflesh prickled under her tee shirt at the cold blast of morning air. A thin layer of spring frost coated the wood planks of the porch. Bella’s bare toes curled in protest against the cold, and she pulled the wrap closer to her body.

“Dang, it’s cold,” she mumbled.

She felt the presence as she crouched beside the woodpile on the porch. Bella jumped up and turned, but not before a large hand muffled her scream.

“Shut up, bitch,” Deacon’s malicious whisper ordered near her ear. “Hold still.”

Bella fought back. Her elbow rammed his stomach, and she bit hard into the meaty palm of his hand. Deacon’s hand jerked back.

“Hank,” Bella screamed. “Hank!”

She broke free and ran for the door. Her bare feet slipped on the dew-moistened planks. Bella’s fingers wrapped around the door handle. With fierce strength, Deacon’s arm wrapped around her waist. They both slammed into the exterior wall. Bella grunted when all air rushed from her lungs.

In terror, she sucked in her breath and screamed.

Deacon grabbed her hair and snapped her head painfully. “Shut up. Shut up.”

A silent sob choked in her throat. “Please,” she begged. “Deacon– don’t hurt the kids.”

A sharp pain pierced her skull and stars flashed in her eyes. Bella clutched the back of her head, and all went black as her body went limp.

*****

Luke’s truck bounced up the narrow road to the cabin. He took a long drink from his coffee. Unable to sleep on the plane, his eyelids felt heavy and gritty. Hopefully, he could fall into bed for two or three hours and catch up.

Panic strangled him when he hit the cabin’s clearing and saw two State Trooper squad cars parked out front. Luke slammed on the brakes and jumped from the truck before it stopped completely. Any hint of fatigue disappeared with a giant surge of adrenaline. Three strides had him across the yard and through the kitchen door.

His father sat at the table with Lucia in his lap and Christopher beside him. One trooper stood near him with an open notebook. Luke didn’t see any other trooper. Christopher cried out and jumped up when Luke entered. Suddenly he had a hysterical ten-year-old boy wrapped around him.

“What the hell is going on?” he boomed to everyone in the room.

“I saw him!” Christopher screamed. “He carried her away! She wasn’t moving! He killed her!”

Luke looked to his father and the officer. “Where’s my wife?”

Hank stood up. The strained furrow in his brow and redness of his eyes made Luke’s fear worse. Christopher sobbed louder, and Luke lifted him into his arms. His son wrapped around him like the small child he usually insisted he wasn't.

“Where is Bella?” he demanded again.

“We don’t know right now, Mr. Mitchell,” the officer explained. “We only arrived about ten minutes ago. Our understanding of the situation thus far is that an unknown man abducted your wife outside the house. Your son heard something and looked out the window to see them leaving.”

“Bullshit, unknown. I can tell you exactly who it is. Deacon Brodhi. Her ex-husband.”

“It was him!” Christopher cried out. “It was him!”

“Chris came in screaming to me,” Hank explained. “But by the time I got up and outside I couldn’t find which way he took her. Chris said he didn’t see a car. He took her right into the woods.”

The door on the far end of the house banged shut, and a second trooper came down the hall. “There’s blood on the floorboards outside. I can make out some footprints that seem to be fresh, but I’m not sure. The yard is full of them. There is a print of a bare foot in the blood. It’s small.”

Adrenaline pounded in Luke’s veins, and his temples pulsed painfully. He set Chris down on the table so they faced each other. The boy’s face twisted in a heartbroken grimace and he wiped his nose on his sleeve with a loud snort.

“Christopher, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw.” Chris sobbed again, and Luke took his arms firmly. “Chris, this is very important. What did you see?”

The boy took a deep, shaky breath. His shoulders shook in spasmodic jerks. A quivering bottom lip sucked between his teeth with each jerky breath.

“I thought I heard something outside my window,” he choked out. “I looked out and I saw him carrying her into the woods. She was all floppy, Dad. Her head was way back and she wasn’t moving or nothin’!” His mouth twisted in despair. “I ran out. I did. But I couldn’t find him. Then I got Grandpa.”

“We’re bringing up dogs to try and sniff out their trail,” explained one of the officers. “If you could provide us with a piece of her clothing, it would be greatly appreciated. Unlaundered if at all possible.”

Luke locked eyes with the trooper. “I’m hunting him down.”

“Sir, this is a matter best left to the police.”

Luke’s fist slammed into the table. Christopher jerked and coffee mugs jumped, spilling hot liquid. Lucia buried her face into Hank’s shoulder.

“This is my mountain,” he yelled. “No one knows it better than me.”

“None the less, we can handle it, Mr. Mitchell.”

His frustration was a raging inferno. “Do you know what I mean when I say Black Ops?” Luke forced through clenched teeth.

The officer nodded in response.

“I’ve trained for years in seek-and-find missions and ground stealth combat. I can find, kill and hide an entire squadron of men in the time it would take you to find your own ass. It’s my wife this bastard has. I am going up that mountain!” Luke forced each word from his throat, and each word took a piece of his heart with it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bella’s own coughing brought her out of unconsciousness. Soot and charcoal dust filled her sinuses and burned her throat. She tried to sit up, but pain shot from the back of her head and she sank back down. Nausea flipped her stomach.

She blinked her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, and they teared up immediately with grit. Her hand reached out to try and understand where she was, but her fingers only met cold stone. It was jagged and crumbled at her touch. Only a small amount of light came down from a spot far above her head. Bella fought against the pain and tried again to move.

Her bare feet slipped on loose rock, and her arms shot out to support her weight, only to slam into hard stone two feet from her body. The space that held her was tight, making her feel suddenly claustrophobic. The odor of burned wood and metal assaulted her again. A metallic tang coated her dry mouth and tickled her throat. Bella touched the back of her head where the pain was the worst. Her hair felt sticky and matted, and the slightest touch to her skull sent shockwaves of pain straight through to her eyes.

The memories came back in a flash. Deacon. He grabbed her on the porch. She fought him. Then the pain overwhelmed her. Yes, the pain. He must have hit her on the back of the head. Terror and panic seized her. Frantically, she pushed and scratched at the glassy walls around her.

“Help me!” she screamed. Her throat was so dry and hoarse; her plea was barely a whisper. “Help me,” she tried again.

There was a sound somewhere beyond the walls. Bella slammed her fists against the rock. The sharp edges cut into her palms. Tears of fright burned her eyes. Her feet slipped again on the loose gravel. A numbness in her toes kept the rocks from hurting too much as they dug into her bare soles. Coldness wrapped around her, and Bella crossed her arms over her body. The tee shirt and jeans did little to ward off the spring chill.

“Please, let me out!”

“You’ll just run away from me again.”

Bella dropped to her knees. Deacon’s voice came through a small opening near her feet. Her hands found iron rods covering the space. She wrapped her fingers around the cold metal and tested their strength. They didn’t budge.

“Deacon, please. Let me out.”

“No.” His voice seemed distant and detached.

She rested her forehead against the rock wall. Her sobs echoed off the walls back to her.

*****

Officer Grant spread a topographical map of the mountain on the kitchen table and pointed. “The dogs have followed the trail this far. But we hit a river here. He was smart enough to go in the water, and we’ve lost track of them. We’re taking the dogs along the shore to try and pick it up again.”

Luke studied the map. His eyes roved up and down the river. “Are you taking the dogs across the river, or are they just on the north bank?”

“Both. There are some trails through there, and we’re in hopes he stayed to them somewhat. You seem to think he doesn’t know this mountain very well. If that’s the case, he’ll follow worn paths rather than try to navigate on his own.”

“What if he managed to get off the mountain?”

“We’ve issued an APB with both your wife’s and Deacon Brodhi’s descriptions. If they’ve come off on any side, we’ll get them. There are roadblocks on all roads leading down Katahdin.”

Luke studied the map again. “What about the Ironworks road? Do you have someone posted on it?”

“At the base, yes.”

Luke tapped the map hard with his fingertip. “That’s where he is. He’s got to be at the Ironworks.”

“Why would he go there?”

“All trails on that side of the mountain lead to the Ironworks. Even if he crossed the river, he’d end up back on a trail going there. I’m willing to put money on him not planning this out. He’s got no idea what he’s doing. He could hole up at the ironworks until he gets things straight.”

Luke shoved the map aside and stalked down the hall. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Then we’re leaving,” he shouted in his wake.

He went to the bedroom and yanked open a drawer to retrieve a certain small box. Inside the box was a key to a fireproof safe downstairs. The safe contained all his firearms and weapons. Seven years in Special Ops provided him with an extensive artillery. The bullets were in a locked drawer in his office, for safety reasons. Things had been kept separate before, but since the children came, he took additional precautions.

Luke turned to leave again when he saw something sticking out of Bella’s bureau. His own curiosity drew him to it, and he opened the drawer.

The envelope was folded several times, and as he undid the folds, the familiarity of the handwriting hit him in the center of his chest. His hands shook as he removed the paper inside. Rage shot like hot lava through him. Luke barely saw the officers as he collected the remaining pieces of his weaponry. They followed on his heels when he stormed out the cabin door.

*****

Bella sat with her knees pulled to her chest and her forehead rested on folded arms. Night fell, and no light at all came through the small hole at the top of the smoke stack.

She figured out hours before where she was. This was the blast furnace at the ironworks Luke took them to. Somehow, Deacon found this place and held her prisoner inside the dark, dusty oven. Panicky moments of claustrophobia pounded her heart against her ribs and stole her breath.

Bella swallowed hard against the gritty dryness in her throat. He hadn’t given her even the smallest drink since she woke up. Every once in awhile she heard him outside the oven. He mumbled incoherently, and once she thought she heard him crying. He was insane. He had to be. Why else would he be doing this to her?

She was tired. More tired than she ever remembered being. But she didn’t dare sleep. The throbbing pain in her head warned her against it. The cold of night sank into her bones. No matter how she curled her body up, it did not ward of the chill. Her bare toes were practically numb, and gooseflesh covered every inch of her body.

“Are you alive, Izzy?”

“Go to hell,” she mumbled.

“Now, that’s not very nice.” In the passing hours, the fluctuation and lyrical tone of his voice worried her more and more. She sensed it wasn’t Deacon she spoke to anymore. Some paper copy of him. A demented, mad version of him. The original form of Deacon Brodhi was bad enough, but this mutation was beyond her worst nightmare. Worse than any version she ever lived with.

“He’s not coming for you. He gave up. Knew I was too much man for him,” Deacon mumbled. “I was too much man for him ten years ago, too. That’s why he didn’t come for you. He knew. Knew I won your heart, and he lost. You were mine. Mine. Until he showed up again.”

“Shut up.”

“No, Izzy, no. You need to hear this. It’s my job to teach you. You’re being foolish. Stupid. You always were when it came to that grunt. He doesn’t love you. Not like I love you. I always loved you. Always.”

“Shut up,” she cried again, and lifted her head. It hit painfully against the rock wall. “You’re crazy, Deacon. Just shut up.”

“Actually,” he said, and she heard him move around near the opening. “Actually, you’re wrong, Izzy. According to the doctor, I have a chemical imbalance. I’m not crazy. I’m a Manic-Depressive. Doesn’t that sound so much nicer than crazy? All I needed were these funny little pills every day, and I wouldn’t think such crazy and violent thoughts anymore.” A bottle of pills rolled in through the gate, stopping near Bella’s feet.

“But I stopped taking them when they let me out. I’ve been thinking much clearer ever since.”

A silent sob shook Bella’s shoulders. Her stomach twisted and another wave of nausea hit her. Bella covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Deacon, please,” she begged again. “I’m going to be sick. Deacon, let me out. I’m going to be sick.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She choked on the bitter bile in her throat, and an awful noise escaped her as she fought the vomit down. He must have heard her, because the gate clanged open and he yanked her out by the ankle. Bella stood on shaky legs and barely made it around the corner of the oven before emptying her stomach. With arms wrapped around her abdomen, Bella rocked back on her knees. Eventually, the pains and queasiness subsided and she turned to find him. Her eyes adjusted to the increased light outside the chimney, though it was still dark.

Deacon stood with his back against the side of the stone stack. Held in the crook of his arm was a large gun. Bella didn’t know enough about guns to know what it was, but it immediately frightened her. Where did he get a gun like that? A match flared in the twilight, and he lit the end of a cigarette. He flicked his wrist to extinguish the flame and tossed it aside.

“A habit I picked up in jail,” he offered. “Not much else to do but smoke and plan.”

Bella clung to the stone wall, which wrapped around the perimeter of the oven, and slowly stood. She was weak, probably from a combination of the lump on her head and lack of water. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious before waking up. It could have been a day or more. It could have been just hours.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

“Let you go? No way in hell. Not after everything I did, and gave up, to have your sweet ass.” He stepped forward, and Bella took an involuntary step back. “And you never appreciated any of it. Not one goddamn fuckin’ thing.”

“I’m not yours, Deacon. I never was.”

Somehow, she knew she was going to die, one way or another. He wasn’t going to let her walk away. God help her, but she wasn’t going to go out quietly.

“You know it as well as I do,” she added.

“You were mine. You were my wife. I owned you.”

“No,” she screamed back. “You didn’t. You took my body. You took my name. You took everything away from me. But you didn’t have my heart. Never!”

Deacon slammed against her, sandwiching her body between him and the stone wall. The rocks pressed into her injured skull, and the forest around her wavered. He lifted his cigarette and ground it out on a stone beside her head. Slowly, he blew a lung full of smoke in her face. Violent coughing racked her body.

“Why didn’t you ever love me, Izzy?” he asked through the haze. The lyrical, whimsical lilt was back in his voice. It was as if a switch were going off and on in his head. “I tried so hard to make you love me.”

“You’re full of shit.”

He continued, unabated. “I married you. I took responsibility for your bastard kid. I didn’t have to, but I did. I bought you a house. I bought you a nice car. I gave you two kids. What else does a woman want? Tell me, Izzy, and I’ll get it for you. This time I’ll make you love me.”

“I hate you.”

“You’ll learn. I can give you more than him.”

He pressed his crotch against her, and revulsion turned her stomach again. His empty hand moved over her body, clenching her breast and bruising her cold flesh.

“You’ll love me.”

“I hate you.” Bella bit out each word. “I hate you with every ounce of life I have. I hated you from the first time you touched me. I will always hate you. You make me sick. The thought of you makes me sick!”

With audacity born of fear and rage, Bella spat in his face. His fist hit her cheek, and she crumpled on the ground. The grass rushed towards her, then away. Her arms shook with the effort of keeping her face off the ground.

“You little bitch.”

The sickening copper taste of blood filled her mouth, and Bella spat into the grass. With all the strength she had, she pulled herself again to her feet. She could see the wide whites of his eyes as he stared, incensed, at her. Weak fists clenched at her side, and she forced her exhausted, beaten body to stand upright. Silently, she prayed for God to protect her children and hoped Luke would forgive her. This man would not take her soul. Knowing it might very well be the last thing she ever did, Bella met Deacon’s crazed stare.

“You are a worthless sack of shit,” she snapped out. “You are a waste of flesh. You raped and beat me to make yourself feel like a man. It was the only way you could, because you know what you are. You’re nothing. Nothing! I hate you. You’re a sickening, revolting, worthless nothing.”

His hand flew back, and she braced herself for impact.

A gunshot rang out through the night. Followed by several more. Their echoes bounced off the trees and mountainside to double back twice as loud. She screamed and fell behind the stone. Deacon twisted around and searched the blackness.

“This is the police,” boomed a loud voice. It sounded like the person spoke through a bullhorn. “Put down the weapon and let the woman go!”

Deacon grabbed her arm and shoved her back into the deep corner of the enclave. Bella’s shoulder slammed into the rock and mortar. At this part of the stone, the ground outside was level with the top of the wall. It was like being in a foxhole.

“I’ll kill her first!”

“You hurt her and I’ll chase you all the way to hell!”

Bella’s heart leaped to hear Luke’s voice boom across the open field. She tried to look out over the top of the wall, but saw nothing but darkness.

“Luke!”

“Shut up.” Deacon shoved her back down to the ground. Her head hit the stones, and she clutched her temples against the pain. “Do that again and you’re dead.”

“I’m dead anyway, aren’t I, Deacon?”

“Just shut up.”

Bella tried to focus on Deacon’s face, but even that close, he was blurred and duplicated. She couldn’t figure out which face to focus on. The blow to her head had to be a concussion. It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes anyway. The will to fight anymore seemed to drain from her.

“I love you, Luke,” she mumbled in a whispered prayer, hoping he would somehow hear her. Tears poured down her cheeks, and clung to her flesh like cold death.

“Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands held high over your head,” an unknown voice ordered.

In answer, Deacon aimed the gun out over the ground and held back the trigger. The gun fired off dozens of rounds in a matter of seconds. Each shot glowed red from the barrel of the gun. Bella screamed and covered her ears. The explosion of bullets ricocheted off the stone walls around her and thundered in her ears. Several rounds came back, and dirt flew over her head. She crouched down and covered her head with her arms.

Deacon cursed and sent several more rounds into the night. Bella pressed herself into the stone wall and prayed Luke wasn’t within range of his mad bullets. She moved her arms enough to risk a glance at Deacon.

He now stood several feet away, further down the stone wall. His attention was on the dark field between them and the river. The automatic weapon rested on a three-legged stand atop the stones, its deadly barrel aimed at the night. One final feeble attempt at escape came to her. She slowly stood, using the wall as support. Deacon continued to shoot into the darkness.

With a huge expending of strength, Bella jumped and clawed her way over the stone wall. Her fingers and toes searched for a foothold in the crumbling wall. Before Deacon could reach her, Bella gained her feet and tried to run to the kiln several hundred feet away.

“Bella,” Luke’s voice yelled out.

“Don’t fire! Don’t fire!” someone ordered.

Deacon lunged for her, but missed. His fingers brushed her ankle, but she kicked free and dug at the earth with her fingers to escape. He fired his gun, but the bullets hit the ground around her. Bella stumbled, and fell to her knees. In desperation, she crawled and pulled herself to her feet again. Deacon leaped the stone wall.

“Noooooooo,” he wailed.

More gunshots rang out, and both Bella and Deacon dropped to the ground. Sod and grass hit Bella in the face. Her arms went over her head and she curled in on herself.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” someone ordered. “Hold your damn fire!”

“Isabella,” Deacon yelled just feet behind her.

Bella looked back, and in the semi-darkness, their eyes met. Deacon pushed up on his hands and held her stare. Without looking away, he pulled a small handgun from his belt at the small of his back. Bella’s heart stopped. His hand shook as he raised the gun. Her mind was blank, waiting for the moment of death to come.

The click of metal on metal behind her snapped Bella’s head around. Pain nearly blinded her, but she saw Luke standing just two feet away. His feet were set apart in a ready stance, a large gun braced against his shoulder, his stare down the sight with the barrel leveled on Deacon.

“Move, and I’ll blow your head right off your shoulders.”

Bella fought to keep conscious, not daring close her eyes for a moment. She tried to push herself up off the ground, but her arms trembled and she collapsed again into the grass.

Deacon lifted his arm and pointed the gun at Luke. With slow deliberation, he pulled back the hammer, the chamber turning to engage a new bullet.

“No,” Bella forced through a closed off throat.

She couldn’t lift her head to see Luke, all strength draining from her body.

Cold. So cold.

Her cheek brushed the damp grass as she tried to turn and see Deacon. He stared at Luke, his arm straight and shaky as he held the gun. A tremble shook her body. Deacon’s gaze dropped to her.

“I could have made you love me.”

Deacon bent his arm and brought the barrel back to his own temple.

“No!” she cried out. Bella buried her face in her arms. The single shot echoed off the trees, and Deacon’s body collapsed on the grass.

In a flurry of dark shadows, several men came out of the darkness. The uniformed officers surrounded Deacon, their weapons aimed at his lifeless body.

Then Luke’s arms were around her. She fell limp, unable to sustain herself anymore. He turned her onto her back and cradled her to his chest. His hands moved over her face, her arms, and her sides.

“Bella,” he whispered hoarsely. “Bella, speak to me. Bella, come back.”

Bella forced her eyes open, and looked up at him. She didn’t have enough strength to lift her hand and touch his cheek. Her lips formed his name, but no sound escaped.

“Oh, God,” Luke cried. “She’s been shot. She’s been shot! Bella. Bella.”

Luke called her name, but Bella drifted away into darkness and could not respond. Heaviness pressed down on her, and she took one long, shaky breath.

*****

Luke sat in the waiting area outside surgery, his head held between his hands. The pounding headache in his temples was nothing compared to the terrible pain wrapped around his heart. Hours passed like eternity.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up. Brian stood by him, white collar and all, with a cup of coffee in hand. Luke sat back and wiped at the moisture on his cheeks before taking the cup. The vending machine brew was bitter and lukewarm, but he drank it anyway.

“Your father has gone home with the kids. Chris wanted to stay, but Hank convinced him to go.”

Luke rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to work away the tense knot that shot pain up the back of his skull. “I’m not surprised. Chris is pretty shaken up over this.”

Brian sat. Despite his black vestment and white-dashed collar, Luke couldn’t think of him as Father Brian. And right now, he wanted a friend, not a priest.

“Did you speak to the McNeils?"

Luke nodded, taking another sip of coffee and cringing at the bitter bite as it went down. “They’re going to catch a flight in the morning.”

“Have you heard anything yet?” Brian asked.

“No. They’ve been in there almost five hours.” Unable to stand the burning coffee in his empty stomach, Luke set the paper cup aside. His insides already twisted and burned, and every muscle in his body was painfully tense. “I can’t lose her, Brian. I can’t.”

“It’s in God’s hands, Luke. I can’t pretend to know what His will could be, but I want to believe He won’t take Bella away from you. Not now.”

Another wave of anguish rocked him, and Luke pressed the heels of his hands into his eyelids. His shoulders shook with silent sobs. It took every ounce of control he had not to throw his head back and scream at God, or put his fist through a wall. Brian comforted him as best he could, and Luke knew his friend was doing what he thought was best, but it wasn’t enough. The only thing he wanted to hear was that his wife would be okay.

The sound of heavy boots echoed through the sterile halls, and Luke saw Officer Grant approach. He sat up straight, but had little strength to look calm.

“Is there any word?” the trooper asked.

“No,” Luke answered, sick to death of the question.

“I thought you would want to know, Mr. Mitchell. Mr. Brodhi is dead. They pronounced him on arrival. I wasn’t sure if you were aware, or not.”

Brian crossed himself, but Luke grabbed his hand. “Don’t, Brian. He’s going straight to hell.”

The double doors to the operating wing swung open, and a doctor in bloody green scrubs came through. The surgeon lowered his mask as he walked. Luke shot to his feet.

“Mr. Mitchell?” the doctor asked.

“Yes.” The answer came out as little more than a croak.

“We’ve just taken your wife to recovery. The bullet lodged itself against her hipbone, and we were able to safely remove it. She’ll be just fine. Your wife does have a severe concussion, but other than that, she sustained no life-threatening injuries from the ordeal.”

Relief washed over him, and Luke’s shoulders dropped in release. Brian gripped his arm, and Luke was thankful because the touch may have been the only thing holding him up. “Thank God,” he whispered.

“And we don’t believe there was any major risk to the pregnancy. Everything should progress just fine,” the doctor added. “I would suggest notifying her obstetrician immediately--”

“The what?” Luke asked, cutting the doctor off.

“Your wife is pregnant. I would say about four, maybe five weeks. She might not even know herself. By your reaction, I take it you didn’t,” he added with a chuckle.

A new emotion hit Luke. Happiness like he had never known. Combined with the knowledge she was okay, and the still lingering terror at almost losing her, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He sank back down into his chair.

“She’ll be in Recovery Room D. You can go see her whenever you like. It might be awhile before she’s awake, but feel free to sit with her. A nurse can show you the way.”

Luke nodded, his head in his hands, unable to find words. Brian sat beside him again and squeezed his shoulder. Luke smiled. The reality set in.

“She’s having a baby, Brian.”

“I heard.”

“She’s having a baby,” he said again, liking the way it sounded.

“You have a very unique opportunity here, my friend.”

Luke lifted his head. “What’s that?”

“It’s not often the father gets to tell the mother they’re expecting.”

*****

Luke stepped into the silence of the recovery room. Dim light at the head of the bed was the only illumination in the small space. A soft beeping was the only sound. He moved slowly towards the foot of the bed. His heart seized when he finally saw her.

Bella looked so frail and small in the big hospital bed. A double IV pierced her right hand, and her head was bound in white gauze. A small clip on her finger was attached to the beeping machine to read her blood-oxygen levels. Afraid to touch her when she looked so delicate, he laid his hand on the blanket covering her foot. Slowly, he made his way to her side, and took her left hand in his. It was warm, and that one fact helped him relax a small bit.

Luke pulled a nearby chair to the side of the bed and sat down so he could see her face. His fingertips brushed back some black hair lying on the bandage. Her lips were chapped. He promised himself to get some lip balm for her the next time he saw a nurse.

Bella stirred and moaned. Luke’s heart leaped at the sound. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and focused on him. A slow, fatigued smile spread over her lips.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered.

“Hi.” Her voice was almost inaudible.

“Shhhh. Don’t try to talk. They’ll bring you something to drink soon, and that will help.”

She nodded against the pillow. Her eyelids looked heavy, and she fought to stay awake. “Kids?” she whispered.

“They’re fine. Very worried about Mama, but I called home and Dad will let them know you’re going to be okay.”

Her eyes closed more, and he touched her cheek. She tried to open them again, but they closed. “Tired,” she mumbled.

“Then sleep, Bella. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Tension seemed to leave her body, and her breathing grew steady and rhythmic. Luke leaned over and kissed her cheek. Tears ran freely from his eyes.

“I guess I’ll save our news for later.”