Beyond Innocence Page 10
“I hardly view you and Karen that way and you know it. Besides, you know full well there was more to Daddy’s theology than that.”
“Maybe. But it was hard to get past the fact that I was an inferior human being.”
“That’s ridiculous. That’s not what those passages are saying.”
“No? That’s not the way I see it. But I suppose you’re coming at it from a different perspective.”
“Marnie—”
She held up her hands to silence him. “Forget it. I don’t know why I let myself go off on that tangent. I’m here because of Luke. Now what happened and where did he go?”
“He was gone when I got here. I didn’t get to speak to him at all.”
She stepped back, feeling as if she had been slapped. “What?”
“The nurses said he packed up and left about fifteen minutes before I got here. They said he woke up and seemed disturbed about something. They tried to persuade him to stay and talk to you but he wouldn’t listen. He just walked out with his cane and…” The fire had gone out of Don’s eyes. “And nothing else.”
“That’s—that’s crazy. He has no money, no home, no family. He doesn’t know this city. He doesn’t even know how to drive! I’m all he’s got, Don. We have to find him. Something must have spooked him last night.” She was suddenly battling tears and was desperate to not let her brother see her cry. “He’s like a child. He’s virtually helpless.”
“I saw the picture in the paper. He hardly looks like an innocent. And he hardly looked helpless.”
“You should know better than to judge a person by appearances. He may look like a Hell’s Angel, but he’s got the heart of a Boy Scout.”
“You do know how insane it is—taking a stranger into your home.”
“He’s not a stranger. I’ve seen him almost every day for more than a month. He needs me, Don. He’s got no one else.”
“What about that guy he beat up on yesterday? Doesn’t that concern you?”
“He had very good reasons for doing that. I refuse to judge him because he slugged one slimy reporter.” Her fingers curled around the heart-shaped locket that hung around her neck. It had been her final treat to herself along with the other bits of femininity she had brought home from the drugstore. She gazed out at the rain and pictured Luke wandering aimlessly in search of…in search of what? Did he even know what to look for? “Will you help me find him? He can’t have gone far. He doesn’t even have bus fare.”
“He really doesn’t remember? That’s what the newspaper said, but you know it’s so hard to know if what you read is true.”
“He really doesn’t remember.” She reached out and tugged on Don’s jacket to lead him from the room. “He’s even forgotten how to read.”
“What if he never knew how?”
That made Marnie stop and gaze up at her brother. Her eyebrows pulled together as she considered that possibility. But somehow it didn’t fit. “No. He wasn’t an illiterate. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. Now, let’s go. He doesn’t even have an umbrella, for God’s sake.”
She ignored Don’s grumbling at her inappropriate language. The Commandments were not a priority at the moment. Finding Luke and getting him home where he would be safe and dry—that was her focus. And while Don might not be her first choice for a search partner, his strength and familiarity were a comfort.
Even if she wasn’t always wild about them, she was suddenly grateful to have a family who cared about her. She hated to admit it, but she would miss them if they were gone.
* * * * *
Raindrops drummed on Luke’s head. The relentless, pounding beat and the water that sluiced down his face barely grazed the surface of his anaesthetized state. He felt numb from head to toe, and the water on his head, his face, his body was the only thing that felt real.
Ever since awakening that morning he had been unable to shake the sensation of drifting through a surreal, misty dreamscape. He had bolted awake with sweat drizzling from his face and his heart beating a ragged rhythm against his chest. He had dreamed of someone. The images were so vivid he could still see her face as clearly as if he held a photograph in his hand.
He didn’t know who she was but she had been beautiful. She had been so beautiful it made his chest ache. She had dark, dark hair and soulful eyes that looked at him like they could see through him. She had studied him for a moment, and in that moment he had lived a lifetime. He had waited for her to speak, to give the verdict that he had been so anxiously waiting to hear.
And then she had said it—I do love you. I love you more than you can ever know. And his heart had soared. But you can’t stay. And in midflight she had shot down his heart as surely as a hunter bagging a dove. You have to leave now. I can’t be what you want me to be. I never could. She had sighed, so deeply and so completely, with such profound sadness, that he had felt helpless in the face of it.
He had pleaded with her, gotten down on hands and knees and begged, but no matter how fast he crawled or walked or ran she remained just out of reach. And she just kept repeating over and over, You have to leave now. I can’t be what you want, each word stinging like a vicious thorn on a perfect rose.
And then he had awoken, feeling dazed and disoriented. He had looked out at the angry sky and heard the threatening thunder and had felt so completely alone that it made his teeth hurt with the strain of holding back the lump in his throat.
And then Marnie’s mother had called. Oddly, it shocked him to realize that Marnie had a mother. But of course she did. She had a family. She had a life. What was she doing with him, anyway? What if she changed her mind? What if she took him home, and he felt comfortable there. What if he made a life with her as his friend and… He swallowed against the thickness that balled in his throat again.
And what if he fell in love with her and then she decided she didn’t want him? He couldn’t face that kind of rejection again. It had only been a dream, but it had settled on him with the weight of a mountain. And the memory of that rejection, whether real or imagined, cut him like a dagger. Every word that mysterious woman had uttered, every time she had told him she didn’t want him, had been another slice of the knife that finally left him in a tattered heap of despicable, undesirable human flesh.
Surely, Marnie didn’t really want him either. Surely, she was just being kind and sympathetic. What had that Shawna called him? Her project? Maybe that was all he was—a cause, a charity case to be taken in and nursed like a bird with a broken wing.
And what about the man he had assaulted? That frightened him because it hadn’t really been under his control. It had happened so suddenly, more of a reflex than a conscious decision. Who knew what evil lurked, hidden in his soul? What if he really could hurt Marnie?
He had to protect Marnie. He had to protect himself. He had to find another way. The only trouble was, he had left the hospital without money or a plan. He had nowhere to go and no idea how to get there. So, he just sat and let the water drip from his nose and wash away the soil from beneath his feet, and, just like every day, he tried to remember.
He was staring at the ground, concentrating on the distorted reflections in the puddle at his feet when he sensed a presence.
“Luke?”
He looked up at Marnie and a stranger, huddled together under a huge striped umbrella, watching him. Marnie’s face was concerned, puzzled, confused. The man’s face was…hard to read. He couldn’t say where, but he knew he had seen that look before, and it made his stomach churn. “Hi.”
“Well, we sure didn’t have to go far,” she said with a weak smile. She looked hurt. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
But he merely shrugged and looked back at his shoes.
He had barely made it to the edge of the hospital grounds before he settled down on the bench under the tree. That had been the boundary of his world up until this point. The thought of venturing past it alone had rekindled the stirrings of panic in his gut. He said nothing.
He just looked at her, enjoying her face and the way she smelled. She smelled even better than the rain.
“I’ll make you hot chocolate,” she coaxed.
“What’s that?”
She smiled again—a sad, sweet smile and looked up at the man towering above them. “See what I mean?”
“Mm.”
“Luke, this is my brother, Don Grant.”
“Hello.” Luke studied him for a moment and cocked his head. “Do you live with Marnie too?”
The hard set of the man’s face softened and Luke heard him whisper, “Sweet Jesus.”
Marnie looked at him, her eyes sharp as knives. “Now maybe you understand.” Then she looked back to Luke. “No, Luke. He has a wife and daughter and they live just outside of town.”
He nodded in understanding, but still didn’t move. He felt anchored to that spot by an invisible tether.
“Why didn’t you wait for me? Did something happen?”
He sighed, looked back at his toes and shrugged heavily. “I guess I got scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of everything. And I had a dream that bothered me.”
“Did you remember something?” Marnie’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he hated to see that fire go out.
“Not really. I…” he glanced at Don, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” Her hand found his and she squeezed it firmly. “Whenever you’re ready. But now, let’s get out of the rain. It’s ridiculous to stay out here.”
“Why are you doing this?”
She blinked at him.
“You have a family and a life. What do you want with me? Am I just a project, like that woman said?”
She chewed on her lower lip and he could see tears brimming in her eyes. He regretted that. He hated to see her cry, but he had to know.
“No, Luke. God, no. I’m your friend. And friends help each other. I have the time and the resources to help you, and I’m doing this because I want to.” Her fingers caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes against a wave of unidentifiable emotion. “And because I like you. Please let me be your friend. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew you were all alone in some shelter somewhere.” She was quiet, and for a moment he just watched her breathing, watching him. “Can you understand that? Can you believe it?”
He nodded solemnly. The words were comforting, but they didn’t quite eradicate the heaviness that weighed on his shoulders and on his heart.
She stood and tugged on his hand. “Now, enough of this nonsense. Do I have to get Don to carry you to the car?”
Her brother grinned, and Luke thought maybe he could like this man after all.
“That’s an empty threat,” said Don. “He weighs almost as much as I do.”
Luke looked at the man. Then he looked at Marnie. Then he looked at the rain-tattered landscape around him, and the mountains he knew were hiding somewhere in the distance. The world seemed so huge, and he felt so small. And here was Marnie, so warm and close, and wanting him. “Okay.”
He allowed her to pull him to his feet and draw him under the protective canopy of the huge umbrella. Her brother accompanied them to her car. No one spoke. There was only the patter of the rain on the vinyl and the splash of their shoes in the puddles.
Marnie unlocked her little car and motioned him inside. “But I’ll get it all wet.”
“It’s only water. It’ll dry.”
Feeling guilty, he slid into the warm bucket seat and she closed the door behind him. But she didn’t come around to her side immediately. She and her brother stepped away a few paces, and he could only watch their mouths and wonder idly what they were talking about. But there was little doubt in his mind—it had something to do with him.
“So?”
“So, what?”
“Do you think I’m safe with him? Or do you still think he’s a menace to society and a threat to my safety?”
Don glanced at the car. “He’s…spooky.”
She rolled her eyes. “You always were a great judge of character.”
He let out a long, slow breath. “Okay, I guess I won’t worry too much. And I’ll tell Mom that I think you’ll be fine. It’s just so strange hearing those words coming out of that face.”
“He’s like a baby, Don. In experience he’s barely a month old.”
“Maybe.” He looked back at his sister. “What about this weekend?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tiffany. You were going to take Tiffany. How are we supposed to make other arrangements at this point?”
“I didn’t forget. I can still take her.”
“I don’t know…”
“She’ll be fine. And I think it will be good for Luke to be exposed to a child. I’ve often wondered if he has children somewhere. Maybe spending some time with Tiffany will help him remember.”
“That’s great for him, but what about her?”
Marnie made a concerted effort to not stiffen at his words. “He’s not going to molest her. She’ll have a blast. I hope to go to a movie, maybe go mini-golfing, lots of stuff to keep her busy and give Luke something to focus on.”
Don placed a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful, Marnie. You said it yourself. What if he has a wife and kid somewhere? You’re letting yourself in for a big letdown when he leaves.”
“I’ll take my chances. But thanks.” She pulled him down for a light kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for caring, and thanks for not judging Luke.” She was truly amazed at Don’s apparent open-minded stance. Apparently, not even men were immune to Luke’s innocent charms.
He just grunted in reply. “All right, we’ll drop her off at five on Friday.” And with that he ducked out from beneath the umbrella and made a dash for his car. No doubt this little detour had made him late for his work at Guardian Press, the small publishing house their father had founded and Don had built into a thriving publisher of Christian literature and resource material.
Her father’s church was floundering. Without his leadership the movement seemed to have lost its momentum. Even with Helen and Don Grant’s continued support and a new and dynamic pastoral import, Sunday morning attendance had dwindled. However, while Amos Grant’s son had no talent for preaching or proselytizing, he had poured his heart and soul into the publishing business that had been their family’s bread and butter during the formative years of the ministry. In that arena, at least, Don had made his father proud.
Marnie would have loved an opportunity to be a part of Guardian Press as well, but the only options she was offered were clerical or sales. She had no place in the higher echelons where decisions were made and the future of the company was determined. So, rather than be relegated to the status of highly paid peon she had opted to make her own life.
As she slid into the driver’s seat, she looked over at Luke, dripping wet and as fresh as a spring rain himself. She decided she had made the right choice.
* * * * *
Marnie and Luke made a dash for her front door. Marnie laughed as she shoved the key into her lock. “I don’t know why we’re so afraid to get caught in the rain. Like I said, it’s only water.”
Luke remained silent—watching her, smiling and dripping on her front stoop.
“You certainly don’t seem to mind it.”
“It felt good.”
“Yeah,” she mused as they stepped inside. “It did.”
The door closed behind them and he gazed at his surroundings. “It’s beautiful.”
She chuckled. “Well, there goes my ego. You said I was beautiful too. You obviously have a warped sense of aesthetics.” Her home was simple and clean but “beautiful” was not a word she ever would have chosen to describe it.
“Huh?”
“Aesthetics refers to how you perceive beauty. It can be perceived in a mountain, a person, a piece of music, even a scent. Things that are beautiful, in whatever way, are said to be aesthetically pleasing.”
He seemed slightly distracted, and she wasn’t sure if he was following her lesson on the finer things in life as he plucked at the T-shirt that clung to his skin. But his response surprised her. “Well, I’m sticking with what I said before. This house is beautiful, and so are you.” At last he looked at her. “Especially today.” He touched her hair, which now hung limp from the exposure to wind-whipped rain. All evidence of the precise blow-dry job had long since been eradicated. But Luke seemed oblivious to her bedraggled state. “I like your hair like this.”
Blushing at the compliment and scolding herself for it, she steered him in another direction. “Enough sappy stuff. You need to get out of those wet things.” She turned around, considering whether she had a robe upstairs that he could squeeze into, but by the time she turned back he had already stripped off his T-shirt and was working on the shorts. Her flush deepened as she watched, in silent fascination, the peeling of the thin, khaki material down those long, muscular legs. At last he stood there, clad only in briefs and a grin as he held out the assortment of soggy cotton.
She couldn’t seem to move. She was a physiotherapist and an expert on muscles and bones and sinew. She had seen almost every imaginable body part, in every imaginable size and shape, but nothing could compare with the effect of the total package—or maybe just this particular package—displayed with such flagrancy. He showed no sign of being self-conscious as her eyes roved unabashedly over the trim lines of his chest, abdomen, thighs and calves.
When she reached his feet she realized what she was doing. She was also startled by the sudden, and very intense, desire to touch him…everywhere. Very slowly. And completely unprofessionally. But she reined in those urges with determination. “Luke, I…”
Impossibly, his grin widened. “Am I aesthetically pleasing?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. He was no Schwarzenegger. And he was no Barishnikov. But there was no wasted space on that body, no discernible fat, and no angle or curve out of place. He had put weight back on since he had regained consciousness, but it seemed disinclined to do anything but turn directly to hard, solid muscle. Nothing soft here. She swallowed at the image that tiny thought induced. “You…uh…you didn’t have to take me so literally.”