Autumn's Shadow (22 page)

"Besides, I'm enjoying this," Burke added.

She laughed out loud. "I'm glad you call putting up a border in my family room entertainment," she teased. Burke was affecting. Wasn't that risky? She found she just didn't care anymore. Months of tension, compounded by an unasked for attraction to this man.  She felt herself coming loose as if she'd been tied in a knot.

She used words to mask her unpredictable emotions."The idea of doing my own decorating, you don't knowhow liberating that is to me. Mother always consults an interior designer and has workmen come in to do the actual work."

"That takes out all the fun," Burke commented.

"Exactly." Then she let the truth come out. "I always just accepted whatever my mother wanted. What was the use in voicing an opinion? If I liked something or didn't, it never lasted anyway. I lived in a showroom, not a home."

"You're sad," Burke murmured. He moved closer and rested a hand on her shoulder.

Before she could stop herself, she brushed her cheek against his hand. The sensation of his wind-roughened skin against her face rocked her to her toes.
Don't throw yourself at the poor man.

Shocked at herself, she pulled away and reached for a package of the border. Her hands trembled as she tore through the cellophane wrap of the first roll of border with pinecones on pale green, linen-like paper. "My sister would like this design." Burke came over and helped Keely unwind and drag the roll of pre-glued border through a shallow trough of water.

Keely concentrated on the motions, not on Burke. Or at least she tried. With each of them holding an end of the wet slippery border, they walked in tandem to the wall. Burke pressed down the border and began smoothing it toward her. She held down the end while he manipulated and adjusted the line of pinecones, making sure it butted against the purple chalk guideline.

She reveled in their working as a team. Did Burke notice how attuned they were to each other—every move, every glance, each nuance? I'm falling in love. I don't want to, but today I don't seem to be able to stop myself.

Before she knew it, the other three walls were done."Finished!" She stepped back and admired their work, her heart full to bursting  at this being in her own home, her own place. And with Burke's being there, sharing the joy

The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it. Shane stood outside with a large white bag, fragrant of deep fried onions rings, in one hand and a jug of root beer in the other. Keely had called and asked him to bring them supper when he finished his shift at A&W. "Step in, Shane. Please put it on the table there."

Pointing toward one of the late Mrs. Armbruster's slender oval tables, Keely opened the front hall closet and pulled out her purse. Her mouth watered in anticipation. "How much do I owe you?"

"Everything came to—" he glanced down at a ticket stapled to the bag and rattled off the amount.

She pulled out bills and handed them to him. "Please keep the change."

His face lit up. "Thanks, Ms. Turner."

"Thank you! Do you want to see Nick and Jayleen before you leave?" She watched for his response. "Or would you like to stay and help us eat this?"

"I've had enough A&W today, thanks." Shane grinned."I'll just run in and say hi though."

Keely waved him toward the hallway.

"I smell onion rings!" Burke came out of her bedroom and headed straight for her.

Seeing him coming, she picked up the warm bag, hugged it to herself, and held up one hand. "Back!"Breathless happiness bubbled up inside her like root beer over ice cream. "There's enough for everyone, so don't worry."

"Jayleen, Nick, Harlan, come and get it before it's all gone!" Burke called over his shoulder.

After supper Jayleen and Nick decided to drive Harlan home and keep him company. Keely had expected Burke to leave also. Instead, he walked into her family room. He stood with his back to her, staring out into the lengthening autumn shadows outside.

The house was silent, and they were alone for the first time in weeks. Keely moved across the room and stopped beside him. She became intensely conscious of the man beside her, his fair hair shining in the shadows, the square of his broad shoulders, the clean scent of his soap.

Twilight was fading into night. An early skim of ice floated on Loon Lake like a wedding veil, announcing the coming winter. Outside the bow window, an elegant pair of deer, a gray winter-coated buck and a doe, meandered to the lake. The buck had dark  velevt antlers, and the doe glided smoothly at his side. Keely was moved by the picture of their lithe beauty and natural intimacy.

"Can they still drink when the ice becomes solid?"

Burke's voice shuddered through her. She drew in the nearness of him, her senses keening to a higher pitch of sensitivity. How wonderful to share this peaceful and beautiful image with him. She knew she'd long remember this sight, this shared moment.

She dragged in air. "There's a spring at my end of the lake and a bit of current as the lake drains to another creek. Deer should be able to drink here no matter how hard the rest of the lake freezes. I wanted this acreage because of that. I'll have wildlife passing by my windows all winter, beaver, raccoon, foxes."

Keely paused and then continued. "When my aunt offered to sell me this land, I couldn't believe it at first." She glanced around her room, thankful that this was her home, her haven. The few touches she'd added harmonized with the wooded setting of her lake home: an antique duck decoy on the mantel, a basket of fresh pinecones by the fireplace, and a throw with evergreens woven into it lying on the rocker she'd bought at the auction. This is my place, my home, and no one can change anything in it unless I say so. Thank you, Lord.

A feeling of freedom overwhelmed her, filling her as though she'd been empty before—a human without a place, a home. "I've been a wanderer all these years," she whispered. "I never belonged at my parents' home." This thought fit tight, a perfect grain of truth, in her heart.

Burke murmured some indistinct reply.

His standing so close to her triggered another feeling, one of isolation. I have my place. But I'm still alone. She tried to tell herself it was enough, but in vain.

"You chose your building site well." He reached over and smoothed a stray hair back from her face, catching her off guard.

Her responsiveness to him spiked in her pulse. The low light in the room made her feel protected, hidden from the regular pressures of life. It gave her strength to consider the thought she had forbidden herself. What was she going to do about the fact that she was falling in love with Burke Sloan?

Impressions and images of Burke over the past two months flickered in her mind. Burke that first night, Walachek pointing a gun at her and Burke's steely voice telling him to lower his weapon, Burke trailing behind her at the estate sale...I can't deny I have deep feelings for this man.

The admission sent a frisson of uncertainty through her. But what about Grady and Nick? What about her father's reaction to Burke? What would everyone say if they knew she was here alone with this man tonight? She suddenly felt afraid, as though she stood on the edge of a cliff. Her midsection felt queasy, almost with vertigo.

"You look worried." He swept his palm over her cheek.

The masculine roughness of his hand again made her react to him. She glanced at Burke and found him watching her. Burke, what am I going to do about you?

Concern darkening his expression, he turned halfway toward her. He gripped her shoulders. "Don't let the worrying tonight. It's just the two of us here."

She nodded. "I don't want to worry." She put her hands upon his where they held her.

Touching him was a mistake. Her hands meeting his sent shivers down her arms. She closed her eyes, gathering her resistance. But the resistance wouldn't come.

Glancing up from her place against him, she realized that his eyes had darkened. "What is it, Burke?"

"There's something you should know about me... I don't want to mislead you." He sucked in air. "I was married before ...and I wasn't much of a husband—"

"I don't believe that." Her mind raced. Had he been through a divorce? Had his heart been broken? "What happened?"

He tightened his lips together. "We'd only been married a little over a year when Sharon was diagnosed with leukemia. I failed her." He stopped.

She took his hand. "Tell me."

"I couldn't handle it. I mean, I went through the motions with her. Doctor visits, hospital stays, home care. But I , the real me, bailed out on her long before she died. My body was there with her. But I wasn't."

" You were younger. It blindsided you."

"I just closed up, shut down." He shook his head. "Afterward, the disconnection spread. I went AWOL as far as my family was concerned."

"It doesn't sound like you failed her. Just because you couldn't face losing her..."

"I was a coward. I couldn't give her the emotional support she needed. I saw how my mom and sister took over-"

"Don't compare yourself to others. God doesn't. Besides, they weren't losing as much as you were. Didn't you have the right to be human? A right to feel grief?"

He replied with a fierce embrace. "The guilt has been a killer," he murmured into her hair.

"Let go of it. You couldn't save her. That wasn't your job. You did yours. You stood by her. Remember that we are dust, grass that withers. God never forgets that."

Burke's chest tightened, even as her words eased long-tied knots inside him.

"Besides, you're here doing everything you can for Nick."

"Not on my own. Fortunately, this summer my parents finally got through to me when Nick needed help. Or I might still be...in limbo."

She leaned against him. "Sometimes you still put up shutters. I see you do it and I can't reach you."

"I don't want to shut you out."

"I won't let you," she said and then wondered where the courage to say that had come from.

Burke drew her closer within his arms. Memories of Sharon bombarded him. He turned from them. "What about you?" he asked. "What happened to your first love?" Did someone hurt you? Is that why you have kept love at a distance?

The question startled her, but she leaned closer to him, drawn to him. She shook her head against his plaid shirt, feeling his hard chest under the brushed cotton. "I never met anyone I wanted to be with for life."

"I never wanted to be close to anyone ever again," Burke admitted. "But could we take some time? Try to give our feelings for each other a chance?" He gazed into her large eyes, now reflecting moonlight flowing through the bow window.

"Yes."

On the last Friday night in November, the final game of the football season was taking place at LaFollette-Steadfast Consolidated High.

Burke glanced at Keely sitting beside him. He recognized in her alert posture and her watchfulness his own concern. This was her school, her responsibility. After what had happened at the last home game, he understood the weight she carried. He'd been on high alert himself since he arrived. This game was his job too. He patrolled the parking lot periodically. He and another deputy, who was now patrolling LaFollette and the school grounds by car, had inspected all the waste bins before the game. Would their precautions be enough to prevent a fire?

He wished he'd had time to see Keely earlier this week, but he'd been working nights, and she hadn't been able to meet him even for coffee. Unable to resist, he touched her elbow.

She glanced at him, smiled, and then returned to her vigil.

He looked back to the field, too, but his blood surged from her touch. She had the power to move him. He'd crossed the bridge to her and he couldn't go back. He wouldn't.

"Hey! Blackfeather, get a move on!" Veda bellowed behind them.

As usual, Veda McCracken sat high in the bleachers, jeering both teams. Did she do it just for the attention she evidently craved so intensely? Or did she do it to throw the home team off its stride? Burke couldn't decide.

"You're losing it, Blackfeather!" she taunted the teen.

Shane's grandfather turned suddenly and charged up the bleacher aisle straight for Veda. Burke stood up and blocked his way. "Don't," he cautioned the man in a low voice. "Go back and sit down."

"Let me past." The old man tried to get by Burke. "It's time that old bag got hers." A vulgar description of Veda followed.

Burke didn't budge. "Go back to your seat. I don't want to have to arrest you and make you miss the end of this game. Can't you see that's what she wants?"

Shane's grandfather glared at Burke. But after venting a stream of profanity at Veda, he returned to his seat.

Burke sat down beside Keely again. "Doesn't she realize that she could be making herself a target? Someone might decide to shut her up. For good."

Keely shrugged. "I don't think she's smart enough to figure that out. Or maybe she doesn't care."

"Hey! Patsy!" Veda jibed. "Your granddaughter's turning out to be a cheap runaround just like her mother!"

"Shut up!" Freda, who was sitting near Keely, shouted at Veda. "You have the same filthy mind you had in high school!"

A chorus of agreement and applause broke over the stands.

Keely glanced back at Veda. The woman's face was red from shouting, and she looked like she was in pain. The woman's stomach must be churning with acid. Why did Veda come? What motivated her to such antagonism? Why had people let her get by with it for so many years? Had Veda really seen Grady set fire to the Family Closet? Keely inched closer to Burke's side.

On the field, Shane recovered a fumble from the Minocqua team and charged down the field. A Minocqua player tackled him. The LaFollette stands groaned.

"LaFollette, Minocqua's kicking your ...!" Veda sneered, loud and clear. "Hey, Deputy!" Veda taunted. "Think you're gonna marry the rich girl! Don't bet on it! Big Man Turner will have something to say about that!"

Keely tried to shut out the rest of Veda's invective. Two weeks had passed since she and Burke had stood together in her living room and confessed that they cared for each other. Whenever she thought of that evening as they'd watched the pair of deer watering at the lake, love swirled up inside her. They'd avoided being seen in public.