If We Dare to Dream (18 page)

“Keys, please?”

Handing the keys over to her brother, Ian opened the door for her and walked around to the driver’s side. Slipping behind the wheel, he was silent as he started the car and eased from the crowded parking lot. However, once he had pulled out of the complex and onto the open road, now thick with afternoon traffic, he exhaled loudly. “Jame, I have to say that I’m impressed.”

She blinked in surprise. “Impressed? With me?”

“Yes with you. You stuck to your guns and went through with this. You even fought with us about it. Throughout all the doubt you stayed true to yourself…and look… You just got an innocent man his freedom.”

“I think I did what anyone in my position would do,” she said softly.

“Not true. You did what a lot of people wouldn’t. That’s what makes you special.”

“Well, if no one comes forward, they have to live with that for the rest of their lives. I did what was right.”

“You sure did, and I’m damn proud to call you my sister,” he said. He maneuvered onto the highway and eased the car into the carpool lane before speaking again. This time his voice held a touch of wonder. “That guy didn’t know what to do or think.”

She smiled. “He did seem a little stunned.”

“I’m glad I took you. I’m glad I got to see him up close. You were right; he didn’t look like a deviant.”

“Coming from the FBI profiler here,” she said wryly.

“No, that’s Zach,” he said with a chuckle. But Jamie noticed that he had the grace to blush slightly. “All right, I’ll admit that I was a little surprised when he lunged at you like that, but it was all good. I probably would have done the same if I had just gotten out.”

“So nice of you to be so understanding.”

Almost mimicking Hayden’s words, Ian snorted. “Well, you’re my little sister. I have to watch out for you.”

“I think I’ve proven today that I can trust my own judgment.”

A long pause hung over them for a few moments. Finally, Ian nodded his head. “Yes, I guess you have.” His smile deepened as he thought about it. “Yes, you definitely have.”

Chapter 9

Summer 2011

Monsoon season occurs every year in the desert. Most times it starts sometime around the 4
^th
of July and lasts until late-September. When he was growing up, Andrew used to watch the news until the announcement was made that three days of a dew point over 55° had been reached. Even though anyone could feel the increase in humidity and sense that the heat was growing more unbearable, when the announcement was made on the news it made it all the more real.

While he was away, the Weather Service decided to change the long-standing tradition by altering their determination of when it began by giving the monsoon specific beginning and end dates. A few years ago, June 15
^th
was marked as the beginning date and September 20
^th
the end. Clear and simple; they called it, and they had years of experience to back their decision. It tended to take the fun out predicting the monsoon, but it also was just a guide. The monsoon came when the monsoon wanted.

This monsoon season was Andrew’s favorite by far. Instead of fearing the dust storms and humidity that made everything in his steamy cell hot and muddy, he lifted his face to the sky and breathed deep of the moist air, loving the musky smell of the rain slapping the dry desert and the dark clouds forming over the mountains to the east. He was a free man, and he could stand outside in the whipping dust that stung his eyes without repercussions now. He could listen to the insects fanning their wings to cool off and watch the dark clouds approach from the open air. He did that now. Happily, eagerly, and most of all thankfully.

“Bring it on,” he whispered at the sky.

This was his third storm since he had been released, and he had stood outside in the rain during every one of them.

It washed away the prison stink that he felt still clung to his skin.

It washed away the shame and depression he had felt during the past years of hell.

It cleansed his soul.

One thing it did not do, though, was erase the anxiety.

His first night home he had discussed his control methods with his grandmother, and she had recommended he return to the VA to go on medication. He discarded the suggestion. Even though Darren was working hard to have his record expunged and benefits reinstated, he was still reluctant to admit to anyone his weakness.

When he told her of his reluctance, she suggested the next best thing. “Then get out there and help me care for those horses.”

That was something he would consider, if not for himself then for his grandmother. The woman had done more than her fair share on his behalf. He owed her everything.

His fear of medication outweighed his desire to be human. Instead of running to the doctor, he forced himself to stand outside and listen to the cracking thunder that threatened to send him diving for cover. Even after all this time the loud sounds still made him jump, but he was fighting it. Re-acclimation, he told himself, took time, and he was confident that with time he could master it on his own.

That’s what he hoped for anyway.

A low, deep rumble crossed the sky from one end of Superstition Mountain to the other. The wind had picked up and sent small pockets of dust blowing toward his face. He squinted and ducked his head, but he continued his journey to the barn where he had turned out three of the boarders earlier. He wanted to get them back to their stalls before the storm came in and left the pen too muddy to traverse. Horses loved to roll in the mud following a good storm, and he was in no mood to have to brush them out after.

Filling their evening feed prior to collecting them, Andrew expected that their exceptional hearing would encourage them to return to the barn rather than him having to search them out. Reaching for the orange stick used to protect his personal space, Andrew opened the gate wide and waited while his horse extended his long neck and nuzzled his shoulder from his stall. Glancing at the old quarter horse, Andrew reached out and scratched his ears affectionately. “You’ve had your dinner,” he admonished lightly.

As if he understood, Bruno ducked his head back in his stall and turned until his rump faced Andrew. He pawed at his empty feed bucket stubbornly.

“Not a chance,” Andrew muttered.

Right on cue, the three boarders trotted toward him. He held the stick as an extension of his arm ready in case he was rushed or they became gummy toward one another, but they came in peacefully albeit quickly. He closed and secured the gate before turning to the stalls. Of course the sullen, blue roan gelding, Idaho, had entered Cash’s stall and was burying his face in the old bay mare’s feed. Andrew hastily intervened. Cash was on special supplements, unlike the spoiled quarter horse.

Of course, that was what he got for being lazy and not bringing them in one at a time. He guided the hungry gelding out of the stall and shooed him into his own, using his carrot stick to encourage Cash to do the same. The third boarder, a big palomino named Rojo, was already settled, so Andrew secured his gate just as another rumble of thunder shook the siding on the barn.

At the same time, Tabasco, a thoroughbred he had helped deliver before his incarceration, kicked at his stall and tossed his head. The outburst drew Andrew’s gaze. He walked down the aisle to the unworked gelding. “So you don’t like the rain, huh?”

The big chestnut continued tossing his head. Andrew reached out and caught him, applying light pressure between his ears until his head dropped.

“I guess now is as good a time as any,” he said as he scratched the handsome gelding’s ears in reward. “Let’s go play a bit. We’ll fight these storms together.”

Prior to being arrested, Andrew was convinced that he was going to make Tabasco a fine horse. Unfortunately, he had been taken away before ever having the opportunity to train the magnificent animal. In his absence, his grandmother had hired on some help to care for the animals, but no one had taken the time to work Tabasco. In fact, the only reason he allowed a halter was because he had grown up with one. To say that his manners were rudimentary was giving him almost too much credit. Andrew was disappointed but determined to fix things while he was staying with his grandmother. At this point in time, he would be satisfied with teaching Tabasco his basic ground skills and then selling him to someone who would have the time to work him to his full potential. Besides, the more money he got out of him the faster he would be free of his almost insurmountable debts.

He deftly tied the halter on and grasped the lead in one hand, using his other to guide the excited gelding from his pen. The wind was still bustling, and Tabasco danced along beside him.

“You have bad manners, mister,” Andrew said, almost to himself. He continued leading the nervous animal with the confidence of a man who had grown up around horses. He could feel the tension in the young gelding’s muscles and could hear the nervous breathing as if it were his own. He led Tabasco to the small round pen and stood aside as he rushed by him.

“We’ll be working on that, too,” Andrew announced firmly.

Secured in the round pen, Tabasco’s nostrils flared as a gust of wind whipped his long, thick mane around his neck and eyes. Andrew remained calm, though the blowing dust stung his eyes as well. He ran his hands all over the tense animal, crooning softly and allowing him to grow used to the pressure of his gentle touch. Tabasco’s ears twitched in his direction a few times. A few moments later he began licking his lips, so Andrew continued on his other side.

He used the end of the lead rope next in place of his hand. Tabasco tensed a few times, but Andrew continued to soothe him with his soft words. The wind continued to blow and another rumble of thunder warned that the storm was growing closer. Still he pressed forward, liking the distraction that working his untrained horse brought him. His grandmother was right, he thought wryly, it was therapeutic.

He had progressed to teaching circles in the round pen when he heard the sound of a truck pulling into the circular driveway behind him. The engine shut down and the doors slammed closed twice, indicating that his grandmother had company. Instead of turning around, he continued what he was doing. He was not expecting anyone, and it was none of his business if Grandma had friends over.

Tabasco had stopped after two steps for the third time, and Andrew was swinging the end of the lead when he heard a voice behind him.

“You have a beautiful animal there.”

He turned on his heel, and Tabasco used the opportunity to come to yet another stop. Andrew sighed in resignation and faced the newcomer. To his surprise, it was a man who looked vaguely familiar but whom he knew he had never met. He frowned as he tried to place him.

“Can I help you?”

As he finished speaking, he saw another figure come around the back side of the oversized pickup. It was a woman wearing jean shorts and a black tank top. Though a matching black baseball cap covered her head and face, the dark ponytail sticking out of the back immediately gave away her identity. He felt his heart leap in his chest as he recognized Jamie Morton’s tall, lean length.

It occurred to him then why the older man now leaning up against the top pole of the round pen appeared so familiar. He was another of her relatives.

“Yes, actually. I’m looking for Andrew Sheehan.”

Andrew drew Tabasco in closer and led him over to the fence where the stranger was leaning. “That’s me.”

Jamie joined them and smiled hesitantly up at him. “Hello Andrew.”

He nodded in greeting. “Jamie.”

“You’ve met my brother Ian; this is Ford.”

Ford leaned over the top railing and extended a hand. After brushing his dusty palm on his jeans, Andrew accepted the hand and gave a firm shake. “Ford.”

“Nice to meet you,” the older man said.

Andrew nodded. This man had the same tall, lean build as Jamie as well as the same dark eyes and hair. Though his hair was sprinkled with gray at the sideburns, Andrew could still see the similarities in their matching oval faces and large, round eyes.

He was still wondering what had brought them to his grandmother’s house on a stormy afternoon, and he was sure his confusion was plain on his normally closed face when Jamie spoke quickly. “Arlene called me this morning and asked me to come by. She said she had some questions for me.”

He could not hide his surprise. “She did?”

Unfortunately, his surprise did not help Jamie’s obvious nervousness. Her dark brows drew together in indecision, and Andrew wished he could kick himself. His people skills were far too rusty, and the last person he wanted to know that was Jamie.

She blinked and looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “I hope you don’t mind our interrupting?”

When put that way, he thought wryly. Searching for something to say, he searched his memory for a witty comeback. Instead, only jumbled words spilled out. “Umm, no, not at all.”

Tabasco was nodding his head again, tugging on the lead in Andrew’s hand. He glanced over at the horse and put a steadying hand on his warm neck. Though he was very curious as to why his grandmother had called Jamie, he figured she would inform him soon enough.