Bea (14 page)

My guardian angel,
she thought.

“I guess this is really the end of the line, Bea.”

Her throat got tight. She had to clear it before she could speak.

“I guess so.”

He came around to her side of the truck.

“I’ll carry your bag in, then I’ll mosey on.”

“Don’t go.”

She reached for him. They both looked down at their joined hands, then glanced away, embarrassed, uncertain and a little bit shy. She let him go.

“What I mean to say was—it’s very late and you must be tired. You can stay here tonight.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose! After all you’ve done for me? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m never ridiculous.”

They laughed together. Then they remembered how late it was, and they clamped their hands over their mouths.

“At times both of us are ridiculous. Listen, Russ, this house is full of empty bedrooms, and I owe you, anyway. Please come in and stay the night.”

He considered her offer for a while. Every instinct told him to move on.

“Just the night.” He retrieved his duffle bag and they went up the steps together. When they were standing in front of the beveled glass door, a strange reluctance overtook him. Here was a
real
home, a home where people ate and slept and loved. He knew there was love in this house. He felt it coming through the half-opened doorway. He was both exhilarated and afraid.

“Bea, maybe this is not such a good idea. Your folks don’t know me, and I’m sure there are motels in this town.”

“It’s too late to be looking for a motel.” She put her hand on his arm.

Why am I postponing this? It will only hurt more tomorrow,
Russ thought.

Why can’t I let him go?
Bea wondered.
I’m being selfish.

Self-consciously, she took her hand off his arm and stepped back from him.

“I won’t keep you if you want to go, Russ.”

“I’ll stay.”

She turned quickly so he wouldn’t see her smile of relief.

“Follow me, then.”

They went inside and closed the door, being careful not to make a racket.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” she whispered.

He followed her up the stairs. Like all old houses, Bea’s childhood home had its peculiar set of aches and groans. The stairs creaked, the wooden floors popped, and a few loose shutters flapped in the brisk night breezes.

Bea led him to a high-ceilinged bedroom furnished with heavy antiques and done in the colors of autumn.

It was the kind of room that could have been stiff and uninviting but wasn’t. The room welcomed him, and he didn’t quite know why. It could have been the light from the Victorian lamp Bea turned on. Or it might have been the Persian rug, faded but elegant. Or perhaps it was the row of family photographs, framed in silver, lined along the carved mantle.

“I think you’ll find everything you need. The bathroom is over there.” Bea waved her hand toward a closed door. “It’s private. The sheets are clean, and the mattress is soft.” She lingered in the doorway, strangely reluctant to leave. “Sleep well.”

“Where will you be... in case I can’t find everything I need.”

“Right across the hall.”

“I’ll take your bag there.”

“You’ve done enough already. I’m used to carrying my own bag.”

“Not this time, Bea.” He took her elbow and propelled her across the hall.

She opened the door to a room that was probably as cozy and inviting as his. He wouldn’t know, for he couldn’t see anything except the bed. A brass bed. Its covers were soft and satiny-looking, and soon it would hold Bea, soft and satiny herself, with her blacker-than-black hair spread on the pillow and her eyelashes touching her cool white cheeks.

“Well… Goodnight, Russ.”

Somehow “good night” didn’t seem enough between them. He cupped her face between his palms. Bending down, he kissed her ever so gently, then he stepped back and brushed a strand of dark hair off her cheek.

“Good night, Bea. Sleep well.”

He left her then, left her standing in her bedroom with the brass bed, the soft sheets and the unspoken words. The door clicked shut behind him. He put his hand on her door, willing it to open again, willing her to be there for him, one more time. He waited for one heartbeat, two. Then he quickly crossed the hall, chastising himself.

“Russ Hammond, sometimes you are a selfish jerk.”

He stripped off his jacket and shirt and tossed them on a chair. He finished undressing, then took a shower. The water was hot, the soap was fragrant, and the bath towel was fluffy. All the comforts of home, a real home.

He climbed into the antique bed and pulled the covers high over his chest. It had been an extraordinarily nerve-racking day, and he didn’t expect to sleep. But sleep claimed him quickly.

He had been so tired, he had forgotten to turn off the light. A beam from the lamp fell across his beard as it rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing.

Chapter Eight

The scream woke her up.

Bea sat straight up in her bed, clutching the sheet in her hands. The scream sounded again, and she swung her feet over the side of her bed and raced out of her room.

Her great aunt was standing in the doorway of Russ’s bedroom, screaming so hard the pink foam curlers in her hair were bouncing.

“Aunt Rachel, what on earth is the matter?”

She put her arm around her aunt’s bony shoulders, and the old woman turned to squint up at her.

“Is that you, Bea?”

“It’s me. Why are you screaming?”

“There’s a naked man in my bed.”

Aunt Rachel’s finger shook as she pointed it toward the bed. Russ, disheveled and sleepy looking, was leaning against the headboard, trying to get the wadded sheet untangled enough to cover himself. He was showing all his chest, two very large feet and a good portion of impressive thigh.

He quite obviously was naked. Bea got sidetracked for a minute, then brought her mind back to the matter at hand.

“That’s not your bed, Aunt Rachel.”

“It most certainly is. When I got up this morning to brush my teeth, I left your Uncle Mack sleeping like a baby, and when I came back I found that naked man in my bed.” Clutching Bea’s sleeve, she ventured to lean into the room and shout, “What have you done with my Mack?”

“I can assure you, ma’am, I’m harmless.” Russ knotted the sheet around his waist and started to rise.

“Don’t you move, you murderer. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m calling the cops.”

The old woman started to leave, and Bea caught her by the shoulders.

“You’re confused, Aunt Rachel. Russ Hammond is my guest.”

“His picture is in every post office in this country. Most Wanted—that’s the list he’s on. I’d know that beard anywhere. What I want to know is, what’s he doing in my bed?”

“You obviously took a wrong turn, Aunt Rachel. Let’s go down the hall and see if we can’t find Uncle Mack.”

“I’m never wrong, Bea. I’ve never been wrong in all my eighty-six years. Mack can vouch for that.”

Bea felt helpless in the face of such logic. She glanced at Russ to see how he was taking it all. He was leaning against the headboard, laughing.

“What’s going on up here?” Glory Ethel Adams Rakestraw appeared at the head of the stairs and came down the hallway, wearing her pink flannel robe and her fuzzy rabbit slippers. When she saw Bea, she opened her arms and broke into a huge grin. “Darling, Bea.” She hugged her daughter close. “When did you get in?”

“Late last night, Mother. We didn’t want to wake anybody.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. Jedidiah and I were beginning to worry about you.”

“Glory Ethel,” Aunt Rachel interrupted. “There’s a naked man in my bed.”

Glory Ethel glanced into the room. “Hello, I’m Bea’s mother. You must be the nice young man who brought Bea home.”

“Russ Hammond, Mrs. Rakestraw.”

“Welcome to our home.” Glory Ethel took Aunt Rachel firmly by the arm. “Rachel, there hasn’t been a naked man in your bed for years. Let’s go down the hall and find Mack.” She winked at Bea over her shoulder. “Carry on, Bea.”

“Your mother’s a terrific lady,” Russ said.

“She’s the best.”

Russ reclined on the bed, drinking in the sight of Bea in her white satin gown. Her shoulders were bare, and her hips were outlined by the fit and flare of the silky skirt. Until he saw her he hadn’t realized how much he loved the intimacy of being with a woman in feminine lingerie.

“I’m sorry Aunt Rachel woke you, Russ. I’ll close your door so you can go back to sleep.” Bea put her hand on the door.

“Don’t go.”

“You must be exhausted. I know I am.”

“You’re right; I’m tired.” He leaned against the headboard, suddenly not tired at all, but very much alive – and enjoying the view more than he should.

In one smooth move he was off the bed with the sheet knotted around his waist. He cupped her face, and she tangled her fingers in the crisp curls of his beard.

“You are a dangerous man, Russ, an irresistible pirate.”

“It’s too bad we’re not suited to each other.”

“Too bad.” She opened the door and started to leave. Halfway into the hall, she turned back to him. “Russ, if I asked you to stay a few more days, would you?”

“Why do you want me to stay, Bea?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?”

They watched each other as intently as if the fate of the world hinged on seeing each blink of the eye, each twitch of muscle, each ragged breath. Unconsciously Russ leaned toward her, drawn by some irresistible force he didn’t dare name.

Bea took one step back into the room and then another and finally she was in his arms with her face pressed against his bare shoulder.

“All I can think of is you sitting on that bridge singing to a pregnant cat.” She pressed closer to him. “I’m afraid to understand why I want you here.”

“Don’t be afraid, Bea. I’m here.”

“Russ...”

“Shh. I’m here. I’ll stay.”

They held on to each other until the exquisite tenderness of their embrace turned to awareness, until the awareness bordered on passion. And then he let her go. Contenting himself with one kiss, pressed hard against her soft cheek, he let her go.

She left while she still could.

o0o

When she back in her room, she powered up her email.

From: Bea

To: Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie, Cathrine, Belinda

Re: The Family Reunion

We got to Florence so late last night, I invited Russ to stay. It would have been
rude
to send him off at the crack of dawn trying to find a motel in
this
town! But then Aunt Rachel got mixed up and thought she’d found a naked stranger in
her bed,
and things got
very complicated!

Molly, get your butt over here! We need to
talk!
And don’t tell me you have to take care of my brother. Sam can take care of himself. This is an
emergency!

Bea

From: Molly

To: Bea, Joanna, Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Coming

But not right this minute, Bea! Sam and I haven’t even had breakfast, let alone
you know what!
I mean,
really!
Mornings are
the very best!!!
But I’ll make it a quickie then grab a bagel and be right over. Promise!

Molly

From: Bea

To: Molly, Joanna, Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: Quickie

I
did not
want to hear that!
Dang,
girlfriend! He’s my brother!!!

Bea

From: Joanna

To: Molly, Bea, Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine

Re: TELL ALL

I do, Molly! SEND DETAILS!!! You, too, Bea! Just what all does it entail to GET COMPLICATED with a NAKED man in your bed? Something deliciously decadent, I hope!

Joanna

From: Janet

Re: Molly, Joanna, Belinda, Clemmie, Catherine, Bea

Re: 1 – 10

On a scale of 1 – 10 how complicated did it get, Bea? Of all people, you didn’t break Rule Four, did you? For Pete’s sake,
you wrote it!
This sounds serious. Don’t you
dare
get serious till you tell us everything there is to know about this man! He sounds like a drifter. Does he even have a
job
?