Ryan's Return (27 page)

"So what? Maybe Isabelle realized he was an idiot and left him, too."

Ryan pressed his fingers together. "It doesn't add up. Where is she, Dad?"

"I don't know."

Ryan gave him a hard look, trying to get past the outer shell, and for a moment he did, when their eyes connected, when he realized that his father wanted to know the answer as much as he did.

"You tried to find her," Ryan said suddenly, hitting on a truth that was completely unexpected.

"Yes." Jonas leaned his head back against the couch. "About two years after she left. I couldn't come up with anything. I kept thinking that one day she would just show up again, or I'd see her picture in a story that came across the wire, or I'd hear from some long-lost relative of hers. But I never did."

"Maybe she is dead."

"That's possible. But she's not a damn ghost. And if she were, the last place she'd haunt would be the river. She hated it almost as much as you do."

Ryan smiled to himself. "Sometimes I think I hated it because you loved it so much. I had to compete with the river for your attention, except the river always won."

"The river didn't talk back to me."

"And I did." It made sense. Jonas liked things and people he could control.

"Ryan -- "

"What?"

Jonas stared up at the ceiling. "I never meant for you and Andrew to get caught in the flood. My heart just about stopped when I saw you two clinging to the roof."

"I never would have guessed. You yelled at us for not taking any drinking water up there with us."

"I didn't know how to tell you I was sorry. I knew you were scared of the water after that. But I wanted you to get over it, to see the river as I do, to feel its power, its magnificence."

"I never felt the river's power, just its anger. So much like your anger. I could never make you happy."

A second voice joined Ryan's. "Neither could I," Andrew said. He stood in the doorway, watching both of them. Ryan wondered how much he had heard. Maybe it was good that he had come now. The three of them needed to talk together.

Andrew walked forward with purposeful steps, looking more sure of himself than Ryan had ever seen. Even Jonas sat up straighter, waiting for Andrew to approach, to say what was on his mind.

"No matter what I did," Andrew said. "I either came in second to Ryan or screwed up completely." He looked from Ryan to Jonas. "And damned if I didn't try to please you. In fact, I'm still trying. But this is the end of the line, Dad. You can't run the paper anymore, so you either trust me with it or I walk away."

Ryan stared at his brother in amazement.

"You're walking out on me?" Jonas demanded.

"I don't want to, but I want control of the paper. I need to pay bills, which means I put my signature on the bank card. No one will talk to me. Everyone is waiting for you to come back and take charge. I'm tired of being treated like a child. I'm an adult, and I can run that paper as well as you can."

Jonas flushed a bright, angry red. "I ain't dead yet, Andrew. It's my paper."

Andrew's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You will be dead if you come back to work. I spoke to your doctor this morning."

"You had no right."

"I had every right," Andrew said forcefully. "I'm your son, dammit. And I might just be the only one who cares two cents about you, so don't you think it's time you started reciprocating?"

Jonas's mouth dropped open. He was utterly speechless. Ryan felt much the same way, as if a sleepy bear had just come out of a thirty-seven-year hibernation.

"Your doctor told me," Andrew continued, "that if you don't stop working and start taking better care of your heart, you're a prime candidate for another heart attack, a big one this time. Now, I want the keys to the safe and I want your signature on these." Andrew set two bank release forms down on the coffee table.

Jonas refused to pick them up. Instead he looked at Ryan as if he wanted his support. But Ryan would not take sides against his brother, not this time.

"He's right," Ryan said.

"What do you care? You'll be gone by morning, or as soon as you get a better offer."

"Maybe. I like the outside world, Jonas. I like meeting people who speak other languages, listening to songs where I don't understand a word. That's who I am. I have to accept the fact that you're a grumpy old man who couldn't say 'I love you' if your life depended on it. Why can't you accept me as I am?"

Jonas didn't speak for several minutes. The air was thick with tension, with words that had needed to be said for a long time. "I didn't think you cared one way or the other," he finally said.

"That's not an answer."

Jonas tried to stare him down. Ryan refused to back off.

"You're a good photographer," Jonas admitted with a trace of grudging admiration in his tone. "You don't need me to tell you that. You got the whole world. And you -- " He turned to Andrew. "The Sentinel is the central point for news and information on the river. With the media swarming all over us, you won't be able to handle things alone."

"I can handle the writing and the other media, and -- "

"And I can handle the photography and whatever else needs to be done. I did spend every summer of my childhood working on that paper," Ryan finished, not sure where those words had come from, but now that they were spoken, he was pleased. Both Jonas and Andrew looked at him in surprise. "I'd like to help," he added.

"You two ganging up on me?" Jonas asked. He looked touched, taken aback, almost overwhelmed.

Andrew glanced over at Ryan, then slowly nodded. "Yes, we are ganging up on you."

"Does that mean I can help?" Ryan asked, feeling like the little brother once again.

"I guess, but I'm the boss, got that?"

Ryan laughed. Some things never changed.

Kara waited up for Ryan that night, but she didn't hear his footsteps in the hall until midnight. Although a part of her longed to sneak into his room and crawl into bed with him, another part of her said absolutely not. So she stayed where she was -- cold, shivery, and alone.

Tuesday morning brought more media and more water. Kara and her aunt spent most of the day helping elderly residents evacuate a trailer park just south of downtown. The residents were scared, some too old to walk, some terrified of losing their last few belongings to the river.

Josephine worked miracles, soothing everyone's fears with her calm, efficient manner and her no-nonsense approach. She didn't want to alarm them, but she absolutely refused to let anyone ride out the storm in the hope that the worst wouldn't happen.

Kara saw little of Ryan that day. When she wasn't setting up a shelter at the rec center and another at the high school, she was making coffee and feeding hungry sandbagging volunteers.

She tried to keep Angel busy and away from the river, but the schools had closed for a few days due to the rising water, giving Angel too much time to think about her ghost. Kara finally stopped worrying. Her daughter was smart enough to stay out of danger. Plus, Kara had about as much chance of stopping Angel as she did of stopping the river. Both were determined to go their own way.

By ten that night, Kara's worries turned to Ryan. With the thought of sleep seemingly impossible, Kara went down to her kitchen and began to bake. For two hours she mixed flour, sugar, and salt. She kneaded and rolled and cut and shaped and finally baked. The smells of vanilla, ginger, and cinnamon soothed her troubled mind. By midnight she had cakes, pies, and cookies cooling on the counter. She was just cleaning up the last bit of flour when Ryan came in.

His strong hands caught her waist and his warm mouth touched her neck. Kara silently thanked God for bringing him back for at least one more night. She turned into Ryan's arms and gave him a welcoming smile.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi, yourself. I've missed you."

His voice sounded husky. His eyes were dark with emotion. He looked at her with desire, with longing, with need. Kara knew those emotions were reflected in her own eyes, because she felt each one like a hunger pain that wouldn't go away until she fed herself, until she feasted on him. She touched his face with the back of her hand, noting the weary lines beneath his eyes.

"You look tired," she said. "Where have you been?"

"Helping Andrew get out a special flood edition of The Sentinel."

Her mouth fell open. "You and Andrew are working together?"

Ryan leaned over and kissed her, taking advantage of her vulnerable mouth. "Mm, you taste good. Like hot coffee and whipped cream. Can I have some?"

"I can make you a cup," Kara said, but Ryan kissed her again, making a mockery of her answer.

She pushed her hand against his chest. "Wait a second. I want to hear more about you and Andrew."

Ryan shrugged. "Andrew needs help. My father certainly can't do it."

"And you can?"

"I'm not helpless. I grew up at that paper."

"That's not what I mean. Last I heard Andrew hated your guts. And Jonas felt the same way. What did I miss?"

"I went by the house yesterday. I found Jonas packing up the downstairs. He was holding this vase of my mother's in his hand and he was crying." Ryan wearily shook his head. "When I saw him like that, I realized how pointless our feud was. When my mother left, we all lost someone we loved. Maybe it doesn't matter anymore why she left. Maybe we can't keep living our lives based on something that happened twenty-five years ago."

Kara squeezed his hands. "I'm glad you've made peace." She paused. "Ryan, when are you leaving?"

"A day or two."

"That's what you said a couple of days ago."

'Trying to get rid of me?"

"No, just trying to figure you out."

"An impossible task. I haven't figured myself out yet. You know, with all the media in town, Serenity Springs is going to get plenty of coverage. Just what you wanted."

"But this isn't what I wanted the world to know. I wanted them to see the river in its glory, not in its fury."

"You can't have one without the other. Every rose has a thorn. Every love affair has an ending."

"Is that what we had -- a love affair?"

"You said no strings," Ryan reminded her.

Kara took in a deep breath. "And I meant it. I just don't know what the proper etiquette is here. I could have handled things if you had left yesterday morning, but now -- now it's more difficult. I don't know how to act around you. I don't know what you want from me."

Ryan stopped the flow of words with his mouth, taking her with his tongue as surely as if he'd taken her with the rest of his body. When he lifted his head, she felt dizzy.

"God, how do you do that?" she asked. "How do you make me want you with just one kiss?"

"I want you, too, Kara. As much as you're willing to give me." Ryan flipped off the switch behind her head, plunging the kitchen into darkness. The dim light blinded Kara to the reality of her situation, to the empty future ahead. She was only aware of the storm outside, the storm within, and Ryan's outstretched hand. After a moment she took his hand, and they walked up the stairs together.

He made love to her slowly this time, gently, tenderly, tracing her body with his hands so he could remember every fine detail. He started with her face, trailing his fingers down the slender column of her neck and shoulders, her lush, full breasts, the dark nipples, the cluster of freckles that encircled her heart as if they were gatekeepers.

Ryan kissed each one of those freckles, tormenting them, wanting to erase them with his lips, wanting entrance into her heart and into her body. He moved on to her breasts, arousing her with his fingertips, then with his mouth until he heard soft cries coming from her lips. He moved his hands down her rib cage, encircling her waist, feeling the soft roundness of her abdomen, memorizing the curves of her body so he would know the way home.

He ran his fingers along the inside of her thighs, into the soft red curls that accentuated her femininity. Kara called his name. Her hands touched his shoulders hesitantly, as if she was unsure whether to push him away or hold him in place.

But there was no hesitancy in his mind. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to take her as high as she could go. So he touched her with his fingers, then with his mouth, swirling, sucking, caressing until she cried out and her body shook. Then he slid back up her body, separating her thighs with his knees, pressing inside her hot, wet body, taking her moans inside his mouth.

And this time when she came, they came together.

Kara reluctantly left Ryan's bed just before dawn, sliding out from the warm, cozy cocoon of love into the cold, damp darkness of the morning.

She could have gone back to bed in her room, but she was no longer sleepy. Tired yes, exhausted even, but her mind was whirling, her senses tingling. She felt more alive than she had in a long time.

She let the puppies out in the light misty morning, wiping them off with a towel before she let them back in the house. By the time everyone else made their way downstairs, the heater was going and the smell of freshly ground coffee filled the house.

A half hour later, as Kara surveyed her beautiful breakfast table and the delighted smiles on the faces of her guests as they attacked stacks of pancakes, fluffy eggs, and hash brown potatoes, she knew that she had finally found something she was good at. This house was her haven, her place to shine, and damned if she wasn't proud of it.

Ryan caught her eye. He gave her a loving, intimate wink, and she blushed like a schoolgirl. Fortunately Angel interrupted.

"I heard on the radio the schools are closed again today," Angel said with delight.

Kara nodded. "I heard that, too. Don't look so happy; it's not exactly good news."

"It is for me. Now I can go down to the river and look -- "

"Angel, please. I don't want to hear any more about the ghost or the necklace or anything. It's a great story, one of your best, but please find another one."

Angel appeared hurt as she sat back in her chair. "It's not a story."

Kara sighed, glancing over at Ryan. He shrugged as if to say let her be, let her have this time to live in a world of fantasy. What harm could it do? Probably nothing, Kara decided, as long as Angel stayed away from the river. She didn't want her in any kind of danger.

The doorbell rang, and Kara got up to answer it. Dirk Anders stood on the doorstep, his yellow slicker wet from the morning rain. His expression was serious, his voice gruff as he spoke.

"Is Ryan here?"

"Of course, he's just finishing breakfast. Come in."

As Kara stepped aside, Ryan came down the hall. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"The river is five steps from the lower deck at your dad's house."

Kara gasped. "It's that high?"

Dirk nodded, looking straight at Ryan. "I can't get Jonas out of the house. He has a boat, but I worry about leaving him up there, especially in his condition."

"I don't think he'll listen to me," Ryan said, frustration marking his voice. "He does what he wants. You know that."

"You have to try."

"All right."

"And Kara..." Dirk sighed.

"Don't say it," she said.

"You may have to evacuate, too."

"No."

"Don't make me say it twice."

"The river would have to rise at least another fifteen feet to even touch the lawn."

"Ten feet," Dirk corrected. "And she's rising fast, like an angry woman bent on taking back all of her belongings."

"The ghost lady said the river's going to flood by tomorrow," Angel declared as she joined their conversation. "She said that Mr. Hunter, Jonas, has to leave this time."

"Well, maybe you can get that ghost friend of yours to talk to Jonas. Maybe he'll listen to her," Dirk said with a smile, tipping his head at Kara and Ryan. "I've got to move on. There's plenty of room at the high school and the rec center, Kara, for you and your guests."

"But all my things are here," she protested, echoing the same sentiment expressed by everyone who lived by the river.

"There might still be some storage lockers in the next town if you want to move valuables today. If not, some folks over in the next town are renting out their garages."

"Thanks, I'll think about it."

"Don't think too long. Time is not on your side."

"Are we going to leave, Mom?" Angel asked with her usual wide-eyed expression as Kara closed the door.

Kara knew she should say yes, but every instinct told her to say no. This was her home. This was the place where she had found love and peace and herself. How could she leave it? How could she let the river take it away from her?

"You can't stay," Ryan said. "Not if the river is rising that fast."

"Dirk is just being extra cautious." Kara reopened the door. "Look, you can see the water is still..." Her voice faded away as she realized the water was much closer than she had anticipated.

"My God." Ryan put his arm around Kara and Angel in a protective gesture.

Kara put her own arm around his waist. "It's okay, Ryan. It's not that bad."

"You have to get out."

Kara licked her lips. She would get everyone out, and she would box up her things and take them to higher ground, but she wasn't going to spend the night at some shelter while her house was going under. She would put out sandbags. She would move the furniture to the second floor. Her mind raced with everything that she had to do.

"Angel, start packing your things, just as a precaution," she said, trying not to alarm her daughter. Angel didn't look scared, just excited by the whole adventure.

After Angel left, Kara turned to Ryan. "I'll tell the guests that they need to move to higher ground. Where -- where do you think you'll go? To the rec center or the high school or -- back to Los Angeles?"

"I'm not sure."

"I know you don't like the river when it gets like this."

His jaw tightened. "No, but I can't walk away right now, not knowing what's going to happen. It would be like putting down a book right before the last chapter."

"It's easy enough to put down a book if you don't care about the people."

"Maybe I do care," he said.

"Then you should stick around to see how things turn out."

"Maybe I will."

But Ryan didn't stick around the Gatehouse. Instead he went to see his father. He had to wade through a foot of water just to get up the driveway. The river was licking the bottom steps like a hungry child with a tantalizing sucker.

Ryan felt a rush of nervous tension as he looked at the water. He hadn't been this close to it in a long while. Even during the sandbagging he had managed to keep a respectable distance. But now it was right on top of him. For a moment he wasn't sure he could take another step. The river had a way of paralyzing him. Then the front door opened. Jonas stood there, wearing knee-high boots, blue jeans, and suspenders.

He grabbed Ryan by the arm and pulled him into the house when Ryan seemed to waver, leaning, drifting, as the river hypnotized him with its movement.

"Ryan. Ryan." Jonas lightly slapped his cheek.

Ryan started at the sudden stinging pressure. "What did you do that for?"

"You almost fell in the river out there."

"No."

"I've seen it happen. You get so caught up in the movement, in the current, that you start to go with it. It's easier to go with it than to fight it."

Ryan swallowed hard. "That's the way I remember it, the way it felt when we sat on the roof and watched it coming to get us." He shook the disturbing image out of his head. Then he looked around the room. Jonas had packed up most of the things and put them upstairs. The walls were bare. Even the carpet had been rolled back and stuffed upstairs. "Are you ready to go?"