Conall's Legacy (12 page)

“Had to. I’m crashing your party.” Cindy stepped onto the porch coming eye to eye with her.

Luisa saw compassion reflected there. Compassion founded in a knowledge that comes from a long-standing friendship. “You can’t crash a party here. You’re always welcome.” She touched Cindy’s arm, then self-consciously dropped her hand to her side.

“You know I wouldn’t leave you on your own” Cindy said quietly.

“I thought you had a date tonight.”

“I canceled that days ago.” Cindy grinned. “He’s a loser.”

Luisa chuckled. “And you talk about me. When are you going to find a keeper?”

“Soon, I hope.” She gave Luisa a cock-eyed grin. “I’m hoping for some interest from Adriano.”

Luisa shook her head, lost.

“The psychiatrist I told you about. The one from Brazil.”

“Oh, I forgot about him. Too much going on I guess.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, I’m getting tired of the hunt.”

Luisa laughed outright. “Oh, I doubt that. You seem eager for a match with the South American, macho shrink.”

Cindy laughed, too, then her smile faded, and she peered toward the living room. “Where is she?”

“Taking a nap--again.” Fear tugged at her. “That’s the second one today.”

“That’s not like her. She’s always so ... vibrant.”

“You haven’t seen her in fifteen years. How do you know?”

Luisa saw the flush that rose in Cindy’s cheeks. Suspicion rose. “When have you seen my mother?”

“Well, oh shoot. I’ve seen her at horse shows. Read magazine articles about her. Stuff like that.”

“Horse shows?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but she was desperate to see you without upsetting you and your dad. On the rare occasion you went to shows, I’d call her and tell her where you were going to be.” Cindy plucked nervously at the cloth covering the dish in her hands. “She was in the audience watching you ride.”

The air slowly slipped from Luisa’s lungs. “That explains a lot.”

“What?” Cindy asked.

“I always kind of got the feeling someone was watching me, more than the spectators, that is. But I could never see who it was.”

“Look, I’m sorry I went behind your back, but I couldn’t say no to her. You have no idea how much she was hurting.”

“Then why didn’t she come back?” Luisa snapped. “Oh, never mind. That’s past history. Something isn’t right now, and we have to find out what.”

Cindy was still frowning. Luisa reached out and touched her arm. “It’s all right. You can’t turn down a wounded person anymore than I can. I know you couldn’t help it.” Luisa paused, then smiled. “Thanks for coming out. I have a feeling I’ll need your backup before the night’s over.”

Cindy shrugged. “What are friends for? Let’s go inside and get this over with.” She started in but stopped and turned to Luisa, an evil grin on her face. “By the way, you owe me.”

“And you would want?”

“To meet this hunk you’ve been telling me about.”

“Drake?”

“Yep.”

Luisa’s hand went to her lips, experiencing his kiss again in her mind. She felt the warmth rekindle. She pulled her hand away, cutting off her wish to experience more. “You don’t want to go there. He’s got lots of problems.”

Cindy’s surveyed Luisa’s face. “Uh, oh. I know that look. He made a move on you didn’t he?”

A heated blush spread over Luisa’s face. “No!” She tipped her head to the side as need rippled through her. “Just a little one. He--” A crash from inside cut her off.

Luisa hurried through the screen door and into the living room. Cindy slammed the dish down on a table and they moved toward the bedroom.

“Mother?”

Marie stepped into the hall from the bathroom, a bloody towel wrapped around her fingers. “It’s all right, dear. I dropped a bottle, and it broke against the sink. I’m sorry about the mess.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’ve hurt yourself. Let me see.” She reached for Marie’s hand, but her mother pulled away.

“It’s all right, really just a scratch. It’s a long way from my heart.” A sob caught in her throat.

Cindy walked up as Marie swayed. She and Luisa caught her, and helped her back into the living room. Marie sank into an overstuffed chair.

Luisa glanced at Cindy. “Get the first aid kit. It’s under the bathroom sink.”

Marie trembled when Luisa gently pulled aside the cloth. Thin, lined skin covered pale hands, dull and lifeless against the glitter of the diamond rings on her fingers. Luisa cradled them in her own, feeling the thready pulse in the veins. Her gaze skimmed over Marie’s frail body and up to her face. Dark circles ringed once beautiful eyes, the bruises standing out against skin stretched over high cheek bones.

“Mother, what’s going on? Are you sick?” Silence answered her. “Mother, you’re scaring me.”

Marie closed her eyes, and then blinked away moisture. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. But there’s no other way to say this. I’m dying.”

Luisa held tight to Marie’s uninjured hand as terror raced through her. No way she’d let her mother come back into her life only to leave again. Permanently.

She barely noticed when Cindy knelt and went to work on Marie’s cuts. Luisa gulped and forced down the swell of nausea that rose into her throat. “What ....?” She fell silent. Thoughts crashed through her mind, denying the truth. She’d expected to hear something, but not this. Not life and death. “What’s wrong? Surely, they can cure it. Can’t they fix just about everything these days? You’re too young. I--”

“Luisa, stop babbling.” A gentle smile lifted the corners of Marie’s mouth and softened her command. “I had to make my peace with you. I didn’t come to cause you pain.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing we can fix.” Marie patted Luisa’s hand. “We’ve business to take care of.”

“How can you think of that now?” Luisa’s voice shook. “There must be something we can do.”

“Enjoy our time together.”

“But ...”

“I’ve seen the best doctors. My heart gave up and there’s nothing to be done.”

“A transplant?”

“I’m not a good candidate. We have to face this.”

Luisa was afraid, but she had to know. “How long, mother?”

Marie lifted one shoulder, then let it drop. “Months, perhaps only weeks.”

Shock stole Luisa’s breath and broke her heart. She looked to Cindy, praying for a sign that this wasn’t happening. Cindy with bowed head, couldn’t meet her gaze for the first time since they’d been children.

Cindy held Marie’s bandaged hand and gently ran her fingers up and down the frail wrist. Tears raced down Cindy’s cheeks and dropped onto her blouse. Finally, she lifted her chin and met Luisa’s stare squarely with a we-can-do-this look.

Luisa began to breathe again, her heart to beat, and her senses to register. Her mother’s rose-petal scent, the sound of Rooster looking for scraps in the kitchen, the cool draft of air from the overhead fan.

Some things were certain and undeniable. Life goes on for some; death comes unheralded to others. Luisa would survive, but without Marie Allen-Montoya.

#

Drake tossed in sweat-soaked sheets. He rolled his head from side to side, a futile attempt to erase the vision that refused to leave. Long, red hair drifted around creamy cheeks kissed with freckles. A toddler played with blocks at the hem of her long, flowered skirt. Tears slid down the woman’s cheeks as she watched the funeral procession of her husband replay like an old movie in the glass of the kitchen window.

Pain shafted through Drake. He stood at the edge of Rebecca’s vision. Knew he caused her pain. Fog drifted over the scene, erasing, changing the images.

Now the woman at the sink had dark hair. Gorgeous auburn waves drifted across her face. Luisa ... Desire sped through him, jarring even in his dreams. His breath hitched and his heart lurched in his chest.

Drake’s gaze slid down the softly curved, jean-clad body to her cowboy boots. He rolled over again, caught between sleep and waking. He cursed the sheets that trapped him, holding him captive in his nightmare.

The child at Luisa’s feet was not a red haired boy with a hint of Irish, but a brown-eyed, brown-haired girl. A beautiful child with the look of an old soul in her eyes. No movie played on the kitchen window. Instead, it framed the vast openness spread before the house, broken only by desert grasses and overgrown bushes the locals called trees.

Drake walked up behind Luisa, slid his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her hair. He inhaled the fresh scent of lemon-honey shampoo. He shifted his hips closer to her body so he could feel her heat....

Drake’s eyes snapped open. His heart thumped wildly and his body ached for release. He jerked the covers aside and swung his feet to the floor. Drake buried his face in his hands.

Luisa--this place--they bewitched him. He had to get back to the city. Back before it was too late. For him and for Luisa. He had a commitment to live up to. Drake wouldn’t let Conall down a second time. Tomorrow he’d call Rick, and he’d let Drake return to work or face the consequences.

Drake raised his gaze to the window--blessedly dark. Nothing showed outside. He pushed the tangle of bedclothes aside and pulled on black jeans. Work, that’s what he needed. He slipped into tennis shoes and pulled his shirt over his head as he walked out the front door. The therapy of beating metal called.

Halfway across the yard, he realized light spilled from the open door of the barn. His steps faltered. Did Luisa need help?
No, she needs me to stay the hell away
. He continued toward the shed, to work, and to beat out his pain and uncontrolled desire.

Was something wrong with the filly? They’d worked too hard to bring her into this world. Was she in trouble again? Easing his pain would wait. Unable to ignore the potential trouble, Drake swung toward the barn, long strides eating away the ground between him and Luisa.

He moved into the barn aisle and listened. The soft snore of a large animal drifted over a stall door. The scent of new alfalfa caught him in its spell, mingled slightly with the pine shavings in the stalls. He peered into the first stall. The breath caught in his throat. His lungs refused to work.

Luisa leaned over the tiny filly, cradling the white-snipped face in her lap. Her gentle hands stroked the fine hair covering the youngster’s rib cage. Drake’s body longed for the touch of those hands. Would she ever caress him with the love in her eyes she showed the filly? He shook his head. What was he thinking? Rebecca was the only woman in his future for as long as she needed him.

A groan slipped unbidden from his lips. Luisa’s chin snapped up. Her cheeks were dry, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

His heart dropped to his toes. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. He stepped into the stall fearing the worst. “Is she ...?” He swallowed around the lump of fear in his throat. “Is she all right?”

Luisa looked confused, and then following his line of sight, glanced down at Knight’s Karma. “Oh. No, nothing’s wrong. She’s fine.”

Drake sank into the shavings beside them, and ran shaking hands through his hair. “What are you doing out here then? It’s the middle of the night.” He whispered still, not wanting to disturb the mare and her baby.

Luisa shuddered, obviously chilled in the night air, Drake slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, trying to warm her. She didn’t resist his touch. Something in his heart told him his support wasn’t going to be enough.

“Luisa?”

Without warning, she turned into him, slipping one arm around his neck. She clung without saying a word. Knowing she’d talk if she could, he simply held her until she shifted and Karma’s head slipped from her lap.

Luisa leaned back and looked up at Drake, a stricken expression carved into her features. He’d seen the shell-shocked look before--in Rebecca’s eyes. He knew the look of a heart wrenching in grief. What had brought this look to her face?

He simply lifted one brow in an unspoken question.

“My mother came to settle business. To make peace.” Her breath hitched in her throat. “She’s dying.”

She said the words matter-of-factly but the river of emotion beneath surged and overflowed. Drake pulled her to his chest, hugging her face against his body. The soft beat of her heart melded with his.

His hand slid into her hair, cradling her against him like a child. He kissed the top of her head, swaying, and holding her close.

Tremors raced over her. Drake scooted back against the wall, pulling her with him. He pulled her up and into his lap as her soft sobs broke the silence.

A lightweight horse sheet hung over the door above their heads. He pulled it down, unfolded it and tried to shake out the shavings clinging to the rough cotton. It didn’t work. It didn’t matter. Drake tucked it around her shoulders and body, and then slid his arms underneath to circle her and hold her tight.

Sorrow nearly crushed him. Sorrow for the scarred, terrified child. Sorrow for the young woman about to lose her only surviving parent. Sorrow for the woman he had feelings for without right.

It all boiled together, one inconceivable mess with no solution in sight. This was one more thing he couldn’t fix. No one could. All he could do was offer his support ... and--if he could sort out how--maybe his love.