Maggie's Man (28 page)

"I don't know," Cain said slowly. He
finished pulling on his jeans.

"I've never figured it out myself,"
Maggie confessed. From the corner of his eye, Cain saw her reach into one of
her shopping bags and pull out two T-shirts. The larger of them she tossed to
him, the other she yanked down over her head. It was ridiculously large on her
petite frame, falling to the edge of her skirt. But even then, she still looked
appealing.

Her hands went to work braiding her long hair.
"When I was ten," she said conversationally as he belatedly returned to
dressing himself, "I used to try and keep track of everyone. Stephanie had
married Crandall then, and he had a baby girl from his first marriage named
Charise. I got to hold her one weekend when her mother brought her. She was so
beautiful and so adorable. I told Brandon and C.J. all about her, and they
agreed we'd let her into our little group and when she was old enough she'd
spend her summers on the farm as well. But next winter, Crandall had been
kicked out and Charise was just gone. She and her mother lived in France and
there was no reason for her mother to arrange for me to see her baby daughter.
I sent gifts for a while on her birthday, but she never understood who I was
and I didn't know how to explain it either. When Stephanie remarried the third
time, I swore I'd be smarter but I wasn't. That man had twin boys, little
five-year-old boys. Vincent and Brian. Cutest little kids. I'm not sure where
they live now."

"It's not easy to keep track of
people," Cain said. He finished tucking in the T-shirt, looking at her
warily and wishing he could follow her train of thought. She didn't appear sad,
just matter-of-fact. "Why does this come to mind now?"

"I just wanted to tell you."

He remained watching her silently. Her blue
eyes finally swept up, peering at him through her shiny red hair.

"Family can be so confusing," she
said quietly. "At least it is for me. So many stepparents, step-siblings,
and half siblings passing through. It will never get easier, either. Marriage
may not be forever, but divorce certainly is. One day I'll be a half aunt to
children who will also have full aunts and maybe half aunts and full aunts on
the other side of the family as well. That's a lot of aunts. Then there's the
matter of grandparents. I have two sets, but my children would probably have
three—four if my father was still alive. Three to four sets of grandmas and
grandpas. On holidays, where do you go? Who do you visit?

"It's very complicated, you see. When I
was little I got very anxious about it. I used to hold tea parties with my
stuffed animals, each one named after one of my brothers or sisters who had
moved away. And then I would cry because I thought that's the only contact I
would ever have with all these children—stuffed animals bearing their names.
But Lydia told me family was family and everything could be figured out. I want
to figure it out, Cain. I want to get married someday even if my parents'
marriages never worked out. I want to have children and give them a home and
traditions like Lydia gave me. I want to unite all my step-siblings and
introduce them to my half brothers. And maybe I'll start a tradition of
Christmas week, and every two days will be spent with a new set of grandparents
so everyone can see everyone because that's what the holidays are all about.
And I'll get C.J. and Brandon to do it too, even if they grumble and pretend
they're too tough for holidays.

"I want to do all these things. And I
thought you should know about them because someday, I want to do them with
you."

His body went very still. He thought he should
say something but his mind remained perfectly blank. He could not think, he
could not move. He just stood there in the middle of the room.

And he thought she was the most beautiful person
he'd ever known. So many reasons to be bitter, yet there wasn't a bitter bone
in her body. So many reasons to be tough and cynical, yet she remained warm and
generous and determined to save everyone. She tried so hard and the world was
running out of people who were willing to try.

"Cain?" she whispered after a moment,
sounding vulnerable.

He forced himself to focus. "I … I hope
someday you do all that you dream of, Maggie," he said at last. His voice
was hoarse, so he cleared it and tried again. "But I don't think it will
be with me," he finished quietly.

Her blue eyes grew luminescent. "You don't
care about me?"

He opened his mouth to agree but found he
couldn't look into those eyes and lie. "I have nothing to give you,"
he amended at last.

"I don't remember asking for
anything."

"Love isn't free," he said levelly.
"You of all people should know that. It requires commitment, time, care.
I'm running from the law. I could be running a long time. I may never get free.
I won't bind you to that, Maggie. That wouldn't be love."

She stared at him a suspended moment.
"No," she agreed at last. "But the fact that you don't want to
bind me to your problems—that's love."

He didn't deny it. He didn't agree with it. He
just looked at her and she looked back at him, and it was simply there between
them, something thick, nearly tangible, but too fragile for words.

He thought, Please, oh please, don't let Ham
figure out what she means to me.

Cain picked up her locket where it lay in a
gold puddle on the floor. He placed it in her palm and wrapped her fingers
around it. "You should keep it. Now gather your things. We need to
leave."

"Good enough," she whispered, then
added, "For now."

He didn't say anything. Instead he thought of
the prison bars and the way they sounded as they closed,
kchink, kchink.

The sound of regret, he thought now. The sound
of someone who had made one too many mistakes.

Maggie looked over her shoulder once, then twice. There was still no one in
sight.

"Okay," she whispered, though her
tone still held a faint edge of mutiny. "Now."

One sharp downward blow and Cain popped open
the ignition of stolen vehicle number three. He moved fast and quick beneath
the canvas top of the Jeep, but Maggie was no longer impressed.

She'd wanted to buy an old junk car rather than
steal another vehicle from some poor, innocent person. Cain, however, had
pointed out that you generally needed ID to purchase automobiles, plus you had
to fill out paperwork. All of that could be used to track them down.

So could a stolen vehicle, she'd countered.

Yes, he'd agreed. But stealing a vehicle was
faster and a lot less bureaucratic.

So they were on the road again, this time in a
Jeep.

Cain relaxed visibly once they were back on highway
20. It was just after eight and there wasn't much traffic. No sign of cops, no
sign of pursuers. The pavement was still wet but drying fast beneath the warm
embrace of a bright spring sun.

Maggie studied Cain for a while beneath the
cover of her lashes. And then, because she couldn't help herself, she reached
over, touched his cheek and smiled.

"You're ridiculously happy for a
hostage." His lips were curving as well.

"Must be the company I'm keeping."

He grinned at her, and for a moment everything
was all right.

She put back the top, letting in the cool
spring air and scent of rain. The wind tangled through her braid. The sun
caught her hair and lit it on fire. She leaned back against the seat, closing
her eyes and tilting up her cheeks to the clear blue sky.

Big fluffy clouds looked like wads of fresh
cotton. The distant tops of verdant mountains offered a beckoning horizon.
Everything smelled spicy, fresh and green.

She thought it was a beautiful day.

Cain spotted the cop car first. It wasn't behind them. Actually, it was heading
right toward them, barreling westbound in one hell of a hurry. Automatically
Cain's grip tightened on the wheel.

"Remain calm," he muttered. Maggie
wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or to her. They were just coming up
on signs for 395 north, and they were the only vehicle on the road.

She sat a little straighter, watching the
police car take shape. As it grew on the horizon, dust and waves of heat
shimmered behind it.

"Do you think he'll recognize us?"
she whispered.

Cain glanced at her, then at the canvas top
she'd pulled back. "Your hair," he said simply.

Her hands fingered the bright red strands
self-consciously. Then with a belated flurry of movement, she grabbed the
baseball cap from his head and stuck it on her own just as the cop car went
flying by.

"What do you think?" she demanded to
know, twisting in her seat to watch the brown vehicle whiz past.

She had her answer in less than five seconds.
The brake lights lit up, the tires came to a screeching halt. Dust abruptly
flew and rubber burned as the cop did a lumbering 180 and headed back toward
them.

Cain wasted his breath on one succinct word,
then the wail of sirens cut through the morning.

"Hang on," he called to Maggie, and
pressed down hard on the gas.

She grabbed the roll bar above her head, her
other hand holding the cap on her thick hair as the compact Jeep sprang forward
like a well-trained beast.

Cain didn't fool around. The turnoff for 395
came and he took it, the cop car right on their heels. Its engine was more
powerful. Cain was more desperate.

He watched the car come closer and closer,
thought of all the buddies the cop must be calling on the radio. He wanted to
swear more, he wanted to curse.

He had to remain focused.

"Maggie," he called above raging
sirens, "do you trust me?"

"What?" she yelled back.

"I said, do you trust me?"

"Of course!"

"Good!" He cranked the wheel hard.

One minute they were burning up asphalt, the
next minute they hit sagebrush and the little Jeep was airborne. They hit the dirt
hard, moist earth and crackling brush cushioning the jarring blow and
momentarily wrestling with the tires for traction. This time, the Jeep proved
more stubborn than the mud and the vehicle leaped sluggishly forward.

The cop car followed, sirens growing louder as
it, too, hit the air. It landed with a choking screech and the engine groaned
loudly as the mud grabbed hard.

Maggie risked a look back. This close she could
see the cop's face clearly, old and leathered beneath his brown hat as he
leaned forward, putting his body behind his urging. The heavier vehicle
remained stuck, though.

Maggie didn't have time to gloat. As the Jeep
jostled and bounced her like a rubber toy, she saw the sheriff pop open his
door and climb out of his vehicle. Then she saw him place the rifle against his
shoulder and level it steadily.

"Cain, look out!" she screamed.

Gunshot cracked the sky, echoing in the vast
sky and ringing in her ears. She flinched and ducked, losing her hold on the
roll bar and almost getting bounced out of the vehicle. Cain simply tucked his
head against his chest, not relinquishing his hold on the wheel even for
gunfire. Another shot rang out, then another.

She heard the melodious tinkle of a rear light
shattering, then the sharp thud of a bullet burying itself in the back fender.

"Faster!" she cried.
"Faster!"

"No kidding!"

Then abruptly the ground opened up beneath
them. One minute they were bouncing along, staring at flatland, the next they
realized how much the horizon had fooled them. The ravine gaped open. They went
sailing into the air.

Maggie had one moment to grab the dash. The
Jeep plunged into the narrow ravine, burying its nose against the mud wall and
ending with a whimper.

She went flying forward. The dashboard was very
friendly.

Everything went black.

"Open your mouth for me, Maggie. That's it." Her cracked lips parted
on command and sweet, thick juice trickled between them. Orange juice, she
thought dimly, and drank deeply.

At the last minute, the liquid disappeared. She
heard a faint groan of protest, then realized it was her own. Her eyes
reluctantly cracked open.

She was sprawled out on the seat of the
crumpled Jeep. Cain loomed above her, his face pale and grim as he looked down
at her. She blinked a few more times and his body stopped wavering sickeningly.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly,
the concern obvious in his voice. He reached down and brushed back her hair
once, then twice, then three times. Finally, he settled for keeping his hand on
her cheek.

She turned her head into his palm, wincing a
bit from the movement. "Like I've been in a car accident," she
muttered against his fingertips. "And you?"

"The same."

Belatedly, she hefted herself to sitting. Her
head hurt. She could feel a nice-sized lump growing on her forehead. But she
still had two arms and two legs which functioned on command. She twisted at the
waist, grimacing a bit.