Lord of Lightning (15 page)

She tried to blink away a quick stinging mist. “How could you have done such a thing?”

“It was an emergency—the storm, my equipment—”

He seemed unable, or unwilling, to explain further, but they both knew it wasn’t just the storm that had stopped him that night.

As Lise’s eyes swept over him her blurred vision created halo effects. Afternoon sunlight fell around them in waves, and for fleeting seconds, a soft white aura enveloped them. His pale hair caught fire. Winter sunshine, Lise thought. She would never again watch it light up the mountains without thinking of him.

“Miss Anderson—”

Lise felt a tugging on the back pocket of her jeans. She turned to see Emily Baxter’s stricken face staring up at her.

“Em! What’s wrong?” Fear stabbed at Lise’s heart. She hadn’t seen the little girl since she’d been to the Baxter house with Danny two days before. Was Em worse? Had something terrible happened?

She knelt and drew the child to her, scanning her features. “What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Could the spaceman fix Elizabeth?” Em asked.

That was when Lise noticed the Tiny Tears doll that Em was clutching. One of its arms was hanging by springs and wires. “Is that what’s wrong? Is it your doll?”

The child nodded, and Lise was almost light-headed with relief. “How about you, Em?” she asked, checking the child’s forehead. “Are you feeling any better?”

Em nodded gravely. “I had waffles for breakfast.”

“Waffles? You
must
be better.” Actually, the child still looked a little peaked, but she was out of bed and playing and those were both good signs, Lise decided. She had talked with the children’s mother and then made arrangements with a neighbor of the Baxter’s to keep an eye on the children after school, so she knew Emily had caring supervision now.

“Elizabeth hurt herself,” Em said, directing Lise’s attention to the doll’s sprung arm.

“So I see,” Lise agreed. “And you think the spaceman can fix her?”

“I know he can.” Her quiet voice was infused with conviction as she turned her serious gaze upon Stephen and held the doll out. “Here,” she said.

Stephen accepted the doll with a solemn nod. “It looks as though Elizabeth has dislocated her shoulder,” he said. “Do I have your consent to operate?”

Emily lifted her head in alarm, and then whispered, “Yes.”

She watched bravely while he worked, wincing only slightly as he twisted the arm around, made some adjustments to hooks and springs, and then supplied the needed part—a rubber band.

Lise wasn’t surprised at Stephen’s quick, deft work, but she was intrigued by his occasional glances at Emily. Their eyes would meet for a moment, and Stephen would incline his head slightly, not even a nod. He was reassuring the child, Lise knew, but there was more to it than that. It was as though they understood each other without ever having to say a word.

When Stephen had the doll repaired, he tested its arm with a quick tug, and held it up for Emily to see. She gave a sigh of relief, the most emotion she’d expressed throughout the entire ordeal. Faith
can
move mountains, Lise thought.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Lise said a moment later, watching the child wander off.

“She’s a mirror to the world,” he said quietly. “To its hope, its misery.”

Lise turned to him, struck by the depth of his observation. “Yes,” she said, “I think you’re right ... that’s Em exactly.”

His profile was dark against the falling sun, and so unexpectedly lonely, Lise felt her heart begin to pound. A question took shape inside her, and though she didn’t fully understand why, she asked it. “Do you have children?”

“No ... no children.”

He said it with the weight of a man who had lost things, vital things, perhaps
everything.
Lise didn’t dare to probe further, but she was shaken by the realization, and by her need to understand what was haunting him.

She shivered as they reached her Cordoba moments later. She was sure she hadn’t locked the car, but the door handle didn’t want to give as she tried it. Stephen’s hand was there suddenly, covering hers, forestalling her.

“I wonder if you and I could do something that normal people do?” he said. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Normal people?” She could see her own startled reflection in the car window. And he was there behind her, shadowed in some way that compelled her. His expression was expectant, as though he were as surprised as she was.

“Yes,” he said, “I mean things like ... eating, drinking, dancing? Would you like that? Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

Lise glanced down at his hand, amazed at how much power there was in an unexpected touch. He was asking her out? It made no sense to her given everything that had happened between them, but as she turned the idea over in her mind, it drew her like a magnet. “Yes, I would like that,” she said.

Their gaze connected briefly in the window’s reflection. Something in the shimmering blue depths of his eyes warned her that he was acting on impulse. And probably against his better judgment.

Aren’t we all? she thought.

He came calling for her at six sharp that evening.

Lise opened the door and was pleasantly surprised to see him in fashionably baggy slacks and a stone-washed silk shirt. As though conspiring to enhance the overall effect, the falling sunshine caught the fringes of his hair and turned it to firelight.

He cleans up well, Lise thought ironically. Julie’s “babe” reference had been a masterpiece of understatement. Stephen Gage was alarmingly masculine and sexy.

He took in her powder-blue halter-top dress with a slow, appreciative sweep of his eyes. “You look beautiful.” Handing her a boxed corsage of creamy white gardenias, he added, “I hope these are all right.”

“Oh, my gosh—” her voice softened to whispered laughter, “—are you taking me to the prom?”

“Prom?”

His puzzlement made her shake her head in disbelief. “You don’t know what a
prom
is?”

“Oh, I know what it is. I just don’t know why you’d want to go to one.”

“Every
high-school girl wants to go to the prom.” Her throat tightened as she met his questioning gaze. Wistfully she admitted, “I was never asked.”

His eyes flared with tenderness as he took the corsage from her hand. “Come here, Miss Anderson,” he said, “and let me pin this on you.”

The rich scent of gardenias drenched Lise’s front porch as Stephen slipped his fingers under the strap of her sundress. Lise knew his intention was to use his own hand to protect her from the pin. But knowing did very little to soften the impact of his nearness, or the sudden warmth of his skin on hers.

He was affected by it too. She could hear his breathing deepen and feel the hesitation in his hands as he positioned the flower on the halter strap. It was inevitable that his hands would brush her breast as he began to work with the pin.

“Sorry,” he murmured, glancing up at her. The blue of his eyes nearly drowning her in expectation.

The pin resisted as he eased it into the corsage. And then his wrist nudged her cleavage, freckles and all! Lise’s stomach clutched. She could feel the jut of his wristbone, the feather tickle of golden hair.

“Don’t breathe,” he said, trying another angle. He probed gently here and there, applying more force as he found the right spot. There was a moment of pressure before the resistance gave way and the needle penetrated. Lise let go of the breath she was holding, and a liquid sensation rippled down her thighs. She was weak in the knees by the time he slipped his fingers out from under the strap.

He stepped back and looked her over. “It’s official,” he said, his voice husky with male appreciation. “You’re my date for the prom.”

Lise glanced from the delicate flowers to his burnished handsomeness. If she was slightly rattled by the incident, she was even more unprepared for the thoughts that were creeping into her consciousness. She didn’t want to go to a prom, not really. She didn’t want to go
anywhere
with this golden lion of a man except straight to the nearest bedroom, which in this case, was her own. He had once looked as though he wanted to eat her alive. If she’d seen even a hint of that same thrilling hunger now, she would have abandoned propriety altogether and offered herself up for his pleasure.

“Ready to go?” he said.

She nodded.

Moments later they were in his Land-Rover and driving off in search of a “prom.” Lise was acutely uncomfortable at the ogling they got from the local citizenry as they cruised through town. At one point Bernice Davenport ambled up to the Rover when they were stopped at a crosswalk, wanting to know what they were up to. “Just a quick bite to eat,” Lise assured her.

“What a good idea, dear,” Bernice said, smiling at Stephen. “Adios,” she called out as she hurried off.

No doubt to spread the news, Lise thought, sighing. “Let’s find a prom
outside
of town,” she suggested to Stephen.

They finally settled for a roadhouse on the county highway. It wasn’t quite what Lise had in mind, but the golden oldies on the jukebox and the stacked high, juicy hamburgers took her back to her adolescent years as effectively as if they’d gone to a dance in the high-school gym.

Watching Stephen tear into his double-decker hamburger and fries, Lise had to suppress a chuckle. He’d unbuttoned his shirt collar and rolled up his sleeves, and he looked about as down-home and middle-American as it was possible to be. She should snap a picture for Julie, she thought. This would make a believer out of her.

They were lingering over after-dinner coffee and casual conversation when Stephen brought up the incident that had been hovering in the background of Lise’s thoughts.

“That night on the mountain,” he said. “I’m sorry about what happened, Lise. It wasn’t just the storm as you’ve probably already guessed.”

“I guessed.” She also sensed that whatever the problem was, he’d been living with it for a very long time. Distress lay deep in his eyes. From the rugged strength of his features, she might have estimated his age as somewhere in the midthirties, but tonight she wasn’t sure. He had the weary wisdom of someone who had lived through several lifetimes and seen more than his share of tragedy.

“It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.”

Stephen curled both hands around his empty coffee mug.
If I’d rather not,
he thought, staring at the rings and water marks that scarred the surface of their wooden table. He’d never revealed the truth of his past to anyone, and under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have considered doing so then. But he knew she would never understand otherwise. She might be a wizard at life in general, but she was still virginal and uncertain when it came to men. If he didn’t make an attempt to explain—
if he didn’t tell her the truth about what he’d done
—she would always think it was her fault they hadn’t made love.

“If I don’t talk about it now,” he said, exhaling heavily, “I never will.” He looked up at last. “I’ll give it a shot if you’re game.”

“Of course—
please.”
She concentrated on her own half-full coffee cup as though she could sense his discomfort.

“I was married once, right out of college,” he began. “Actually, it was the year I was to graduate ... and she was pregnant.”

Lise recoiled at the last word. Her first reaction was simple disbelief. She couldn’t fathom the idea that he’d been married. It was too normal. It gave him a past. It made him a man. But what sank in as she glanced at him was a deeper realization, a deeper fear. He
was
a man. He was going to tell her about another woman in his life, perhaps his first love. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear that story—
she was afraid to hear it—
but there was so much anger and self-condemnation trapped in his voice, so much harsh regret, she had no choice.

“Stephen,” she said, “that happens.”

“No—this was different. I made it happen. She was the dean’s daughter. I didn’t just want her, I was obsessed. In my mind, making love to her was the way to lay claim, and I didn’t give up until she—” He broke off, exhaling. “I didn’t force her, unless you call mindless, relentless pursuit, force.”

Lise couldn’t summon a response. Her feelings were too divided. She felt compassion for his obvious suffering, and anguished surprise at her own.

He pushed the coffee cup away and went on. “She’d never been with another man either. I wanted to be the first—”

The self-disgust in his voice was explosive. But Lise wasn’t reacting to that. She’d barely heard it. A searing pain nearly closed off her throat.
He’d wanted to be the first.

“You must have been in love with her,” she said, wishing to Heaven she didn’t need to know. “Deeply in love.”

It took him a long time to answer. “If I was in love,” he said, “it was for all the wrong reasons. No, I didn’t love her. Not the way I should have, and that makes it all the more tragic.”

“Tragic? Because the marriage failed?”

“It didn’t fail. She died in childbirth. They both died.”

“The baby ... ?”

He turned away, and Lise couldn’t say anything for a moment.

“Stephen ...
I’m sorry.”

His voice was flattened and toneless, as permanently scarred as the wooden tabletop. “Don’t be sorry for me. I don’t deserve it. Be sorry for them.”

Several horror-filled seconds flashed by. Lise’s thoughts were reeling. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. She didn’t know how to comfort him. His revelations were shocking, and yet so much of what had happened made sense now, the ravages of time, the shadowed pain, and especially the way he’d reacted on the mountain.

A popular song was playing in the background, a poignant echo of Lise’s jumbled feelings. Stephen’s shoulders were stiffened, his posture forbidding. She wanted to break through the barrier he’d raised, but she was genuinely afraid of his reaction. She reached to touch his arm and jerked back as he turned.

“Maybe we ought to go,” he said abruptly. “I think the prom’s over.” He dug in his pocket and threw some money down on the table.