Kathleen Creighton: One More Knight

“That was the good news,” said Troy, kind of scratching his head. “Bad news is, she came in drivin’ a U-Haul truck.”

“A U-Haul-”

“Seems she’s up and divorced her husband.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yep. Packed up everything and moved here, lock, stock and barrel.”

“Bella didn’t need this.” Charly bit out the words, beginning to pace angrily. “What rotten timing. What a lousy thing to do to your sister!”

“Well,” Troy said in a placating tone, “from what Jimmy Joe tells me, she didn’t have a lotta choice. I guess her husband has a problem with gambling, or something? Anyway, he took everything-even mortgaged the house without telling his wife. Forged her signature, cleaned everything out, then split. The bank foreclosed on her, so she packed up everything she had left, including the kids, in the old U-Haul, and here she is.”

Charly clapped a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Oh, my Lord,” she breathed. “Poor Bella.”

“Bottom line,” said Troy quietly, “she’s really needin’ me to finish that nursery for her, so her sister and the kids can have the spare room.”

“Well, of course-you should go back.” Charly was pacing again, frowning and fidgety, avoiding his eyes. “Listen, I keep telling you, you don’t need to stay here for me. You go on home. I’ll just stay here and wait for the-”

He snaked out a hand and caught her by the arm. She sucked in air as her head snapped around and her eyes burned at him like a tiger’s in the night.

“Hey,” he said softly, “come ’ere.”

“What?” she demanded in a hushed voice as he drew her slowly toward him. Her eyes were wary…still those of a tiger, but a frightened one now, ears flattened and fangs showing, ready to flee.

What do you want from me?

With pounding heart, deceptively relaxed, he guided her between his outstretched legs as he leaned, half-sitting, against the dresser. “Just come ’ere for a minute, and look at me.”

Look at me . Last night’s fear burned like old embers in her eyes, whispered like ashes in her voice. “What do you want?”

“What do I want…” Troy looked away for a moment, then heaved a sigh and brought his gaze back to her pale, tense face. “Look, you s‘pose we could manage to spend a night makin’ love and still look one another in the eye in the mornin’? Think we could do that? Jeez Louise, woman, what are you, some kind of shrinking maiden or somethin’?”

“That’s me,” said Charly with a dry laugh. “Definitely.”

He brushed her chin with his thumb, then leaned his body forward and gently, gently kissed her.

“Look,” he murmured, pulling back just enough so he could see her eyes-eyes that now held the warm, unfocused glow of confusion. Whiskey eyes. “I don’t know about you, but my feelings don’t crawl into a coffin come daylight. Nothin’ here’s changed. Yesterday I was your friend, last night I was your lover, this morning I’m still the same guy-friend and lover. Ease up, okay?” He brought his mouth to hers again, brushing his lips across the abashed beginnings of her smile. “And let’s get somethin’ straight. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you’ve got those issues of yours resolved.”

“Issues…” She laughed and leaned against him, and he could feel her body trembling slightly. He wrapped his arms and his body protectively around her, wishing he could protect her heart the same way.

“You know what’s really bothering you, don’t you?” he murmured, combing his fingers through her hair. Her head moved affirmatively against his hand. Then she turned her face into his chest in a quick little movement of denial, like a mouse looking for a place to hide.

“Dobrina’s right,” he went on, his voice growing husky. “You need to show your son that diary. He needs to know the truth.” She pulled herself slowly back, one hand flat against his chest as if, he thought, by pushing him away she would keep the words away, as well. He held her gently by the shoulders, denying her escape. “He wants to understand, can’t you see that? He wants to understand the reason why his daddy killed himself.” Her mouth popped open, letting a strangled sound escape. He touched her lips with a finger and finished softly, “Honey, he needs to know it wasn’t your fault.”

Her eyes turned liquid and spilled over. He felt his own eyes burning as he took her face between his two hands and brushed away the moisture with his thumbs. “You made a promise,” he said thickly. “And you never broke it. You didn’t, not even in that diary of yours, not on purpose. But Dobrina knew the truth soon as she read it, and so did I. Cutter’s gonna know it, too. Maybe not right away, but he’ll figure it out…that his daddy killed himself to spare you both from a lifetime of livin’ a lie.”

There was no answer, save for a long, quivering breath. And then she closed her eyes, and her face seemed to crumple in his hands. Nothing for him to do then but fold her in and hold her close and keep her safe while she sobbed.

“He’s not here,” Charly said as she opened the door of the Cherokee and climbed in. She sounded a lot more out of breath than she should have been, just from running down the steps of her father’s house. “Dobie says he went for a drive.”

“What do you want to do?” Troy asked, staring through the windshield, watching a squirrel scamper across the brick-paved driveway. “You wanna wait for him?”

His peripheral vision caught her headshake; he heard her seat belt click. “She says she thinks he might be up at the spring. She says he likes to go there sometimes.”

When he’s hurtin’. Troy could understand that. Sometimes a man just needed a quiet place to be alone in. A place…and time…to heal himself.

“Okay, then,” he said, reaching for the gearshift, “you wanna go for a drive?”

“Might as well,” Charly said grimly. “Before I lose my nerve.”

He glanced at her as he aimed the Cherokee between the gateposts and into the quiet street, but didn’t say anything. All the way through town and out on the highway and up the winding grade to the mountains, he drove in silence, listening to the pounding of his heart. Even Bubba was quieter than usual, maybe picking up the tension vibes the way dogs do, lying on the middle seat behind them, alert but still.

How must it be for her? he wondered. What was she thinking of now-the tiny baby she’d held for such a brief time in her arms, or all the years she’d missed, the first smile, the first steps, the lost teeth and skinned knees she hadn’t been there to comfort him through? Or was she only thinking of the tall, good-looking young man with the anger and hurt in his eyes? Troy couldn’t even imagine it. He’d never been a mother-hell, he’d never even been a father-so how could he begin to know what it must be like to have a child taken away from you?

He knew it had been a long time since he’d felt like this-adrenaline pumping, heart pounding, tension vibrating through his muscles and nerves like charges of electricity. He found himself preparing himself, focusing all his energy and concentration on what lay ahead, the way he once had before an important mission. And in a way, he thought, this might be the most important mission of his life; surely it was one of the most dangerous, this business of committing another human being’s heart, soul and happiness into his own keeping.

“I’m scared,” Charly whispered as they turned into the clearing at Mourning Spring Park. There was one other car there, a blue Mustang a dozen or so years old. Troy pulled in beside it and turned off the motor, then reached over and put his hand over hers.

“I know,” he said in a gravelly voice. So am I. “But it’s gonna be okay. You understand me? No matter what happens.”