Beneath a Beating Heart Page 19

  “Oh, she is, but she’s also very down to earth. Literally. She rarely wears shoes. Says going barefoot keeps her grounded.”

  “And she’s your friend.”

  She frowned slightly before nodding. “The best friend I’ve ever had.” With a shrug, she added, “I’ve never gotten very close with too many people. None, really. I always preferred to be alone.”

  That didn’t sound like Beth at all. She had several friends, good friends, both up in Billings and here in Cody. People were attracted to her like bees to pollen, and she cared greatly about others.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why would you prefer to be alone?”

  She shrugged but then frowned. “Because I never belonged.”

  Recognizing her thoughts were going deeper, and not sure that would help, he asked, “What else do you see on the table?”

  “My notebook and pen.”

  “What else?”

  She gestured toward the chair on the other side of the table. “My other bag.”

  “What’s in the center of the table?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  He picked up the mirror and tilted it until a reflection of the flowers appeared. “What do you see in the mirror?”

  With a puzzled look and caution, she touched the mirror. Slowly a gentle smile appeared on her face as her gaze went from the mirror, to the table, and back to the mirror.

  “A glass of yellow daisies,” she said softly.

  “Do you like them?”

  Still holding the mirror with one hand, she used one fingertip on her other hand to touch the reflection. “Yes.”

  “I picked them for you.”

  She licked her lips, an action that stirred him deeply.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “No one’s ever picked flowers for me before.”

  He withheld the fact he had on several occasions, choosing instead to say, “I’ll pick them every day for you.”

  Half expecting her to protest, to say that wasn’t possible, he searched his mind for an appropriate response. He hadn’t come up with one when her eyes met his. The longing there, the authenticity, tugged at his heart.

  “Tell me about Beth,” she whispered. “Tell me everything about her.”

  The request took him by surprise, and for a second, seemed impossible. How could he tell someone all about themselves?

  “Please?”

  He set the mirror on the table and nodded, both for himself and her. He’d just have to pretend he was talking to someone else. “She’s the most beautiful person on earth. Inside and out. Her laugh could make birds sing, and her smile…” He paused, trying to describe something that was purely indescribable. “Her smile was brighter than the sun. Everyone loved her. She was kind and friendly, and thoughtful and generous. She didn’t have an enemy. If she did, it wasn’t for long, and she won them over.”

  “So, she had lots of friends.”

  He nodded. “Too many to count.” That was the truth. There had been so many people at their wedding; the pews wouldn’t hold them all. People had to stand in the back of the church.

  “She had to have some faults.”

  He grinned. “Oh, she did. She was full of herself. Her confidence scared me. I wanted to jump in her path and say slow down before you get hurt.” This was easier than he’d thought it would be. “I did more than once. It was never because she was doing anything bad, she would just act before thinking. Once, I had tied a horse to the corral, but left too much lead and it got tangled around its leg. Beth saw that and went running to untangle it. I was on the other side of the corral and thought she was going to get trampled before I could get there. She said she didn’t want the horse to break a leg. I was so scared, and relieved, all I could do was hug her. Just hug her.”

  “How’d you meet?”

  The idea of her not remembering hurt, but he refused to dwell on that. “I’d taken a pair of mustangs up to her father. Conrad, her father, and Millie, her mother, along with Beth and her sister, Abigail, had seen one of Buffalo Bill’s shows up in Billings, and Conrad wanted a pair of white horses just like the ones used during the opening of the show for Millie. Beth had perched herself on the top rung of Conrad’s corral to watch while I demonstrated how the horses could bow and back up, and prance. I was there for two days and before I left, she told me I was in love with her.”

  Her genuine smile filled her eyes. “You were.”

  He nodded. “I was.” Warmth and pressure on the back of his hand had him looking down. Her hand was lying atop his, and he felt it. Genuinely felt it on top of his. Not through it. On top. Excitement zipped through him. “I was in love with her. Always will be.” Afraid she’d pull her hand away, he continued, “I asked her how that could be. How I could be in love with her, when I hadn’t even gotten up the nerve to touch her. And she said I had touched her. That I’d—”

  “Touched her heart,” she said, quietly, but thoughtfully.

  His excitement doubled. “Yes. Touched her heart. And then she said, when—”

  “You touch someone’s heart, touching their hand is easy,” she said, once again finishing his statement.

  Their eyes both went to their hands and as he gently laid his other one atop hers, a lump the size of a boulder lodged in his throat. The hand between his two was solid and real, and soft and gentle. He curled his fingers around the side of her hand, as excited to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his as he was afraid to let go. To ever let go.

  Hoping and praying, he leaned toward her, so ready to feel her lips against his. To taste her sweetness, to lose himself while kissing her, holding her, loving her. She was leaning toward him, too, and her eyes fluttered slightly as the lids closed.

  “Rance, you in there?”

  The shout came from outside the house but shattered the connection between him and her completely. Though the image of her hand was between his, her flesh and blood hand wasn’t.

  She was looking at their hands and frowning. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “What happened?”

  Unable to even whisper without being seen or heard, he shook his head.

  Cliff had already pulled open the screen door. “You are in here. Didn’t you hear me yelling? I’ve already searched the barn and the cabin for you.”

  “Sorry, Cliff. I didn’t hear you,” he answered, still looking at her.

  She smiled. He wanted to ask if she could see Cliff, but already knew the answer. She couldn’t see into his world anymore than he could see into hers.

  “What are you doing?” Cliff’s gaze roamed the table.

  The flowers, the mirror, the box of pictures, how his own hands sat upon each other. He pulled them off the table. “Nothing.”

  “Just thinking?” Cliff pulled out a chair.

  He shrugged. Beth’s bag had been on that chair, but it was no longer visible. Her other items were gone, too.

  Cliff sat. “Got any coffee on the stove?”

  “It’s cold. From this morning.” He tossed around a few ways to shoo Cliff out the door, but none of them would work. Cliff was too intuitive.

  “That’ll do.” Cliff set his hat on the table. “I don’t mind cold coffee, especially on a hot day.”

  “I was just getting ready to go back out to the barn.”

  A faint hint of a giggle tickled the inside of his ear. Though her image had faded to the point it was translucent, she stood and grabbed her notebook. “I’ll be back.” Her words were barely a whisper.

  He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted Cliff to leave. Cliff had stood, but he wasn’t headed toward the door.

  “You want some, too?” Cliff asked on his way to the cupboard.

  “Sure.” She’d disappeared, and he couldn’t follow her, not with Cliff here, and telling the other man to leave because he wanted to be alone with his wife would have Cliff setting down roots.

  Cliff carried two cups to the table, and as he sat on the chair again, he nodded toward the glass beside his hat. Wrink
les formed between his dark eyes. “Flowers?”

  Rance shrugged.

  The cup Cliff was lifting toward his lips stopped midway. “You didn’t pick them for someone, did you?”

  “Why?” It was none of his business, yet Cliff seemed really worried about that little clump of flowers. Could he have seen Beth? Her ghostly image?

  “I-uh-I met Cindy coming into town.” He set down his cup without taking a sip and swiped one hand over his thick mustache. “Guessed she’d been out this way. Came to apologize about that.”

  “She thought Horse was limping.”

  “There is nothing wrong with that horse,” Cliff said. “I checked that animal over this morning myself.”

  Because his mind was so full of Beth, and the excitement of touching her still flowed through his blood stream, Rance was able to muster up a bit of the sorrow he’d felt for Cindy earlier. “She’s having a tough time of it. Losing her beau and all.”

  Cliff sputtered into his coffee. “Losing her b—what beau?”

  “Eugene.” He never minded drinking cold coffee and took a swallow. “The guy that died last year. They were engaged to get married.”

  “Last year? Engaged Cindy?”

  Rance nodded.

  “I never heard about that.”

  “Maybe Nan never told you.” Even before he said it aloud doubt had formed.

  Cliff shook his head. “She lied. Whatever Cindy said, it was a lie. There was no pending marriage. That girl’s got problems. She’d rather lie than tell the truth. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

  The idea of Cindy’s story being a tale wasn’t hard to swallow, except that she’d appeared sincerely heartbroken, and knowing the depth and breadth of the aching rawness he’d experienced upon hearing about Beth’s accident, he couldn’t imagine someone pretending that. There was no reason to even imagine pain like that. Sorrow like that. “Maybe she doesn’t want sympathy.” He certainly hadn’t. He’d wanted Beth.

  “Don’t let her fool you, Rance. Please. Don’t let her fool you.” Cliff rubbed a hand over his forehead. “She’s…well, she’s—just don’t let her fool you.”

  “No one’s gonna fool me, but thanks for driving out.” He’d wasted enough time. Beth was in the other room, and that’s where he wanted to be. With her.

  “Rance, I—”

  He held up a hand. The last thing he needed was advice from one more person. He pushed away from the table and stood. “Thanks for riding out, Cliff. I appreciate it, but I do have work to do.”

  Cliff’s expression said he wasn’t ready to leave, but he downed his coffee and then stood. “I’ll make sure Cindy doesn’t bother you again.”

  “Good enough,” Rance answered while walking across the room. He still couldn’t completely believe Cindy had lied about her beau. She’d seemed too sincere. “But don’t be too hard on Cindy. She’ll come around.” He held the door open for Cliff’s exit. “I’ll stop by your place soon.”

  Cliff walked out the door, but held it open with one hand. “Are you doing all right, you look better, sound better, but…” He said no more, just shook his head.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for stopping out. I’ll see you next time I’m in town.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He may not be fine, but he was far better than he’d been a few days ago.

  ****

  The hum of Rance’s voice still vibrated the air around Liz, and that was a comfort like no other. He soothed her very being. Even while trying to figure out why she’d been able to feel his hand, real flesh, against her real flesh. That had been amazing. Truly amazing. The warmth of his hand had filled her from head to toe. Still did.

  She’d left the kitchen when his company had arrived in order to contemplate that but hadn’t made it any farther than the front room. A horse had caught her attention out the window. It stood in the pasture, staring at the house as if it expected to be seen, to be acknowledged. A liver and white mustang mare.

  She couldn’t say how she knew it was a mustang mare anymore than she understood how she’d known what Rance had been about to say when he spoke of Beth. How she’d said he’d touched her heart. The words had simply left her mouth without her even thinking them.

  The image of Beth and him exchanging rings had been the same. It had appeared without thought, almost as if she’d been there. Claiming that was impossible didn’t lessen an internal authenticity that was far too real to question.

  Her heart rate increased, and a smile pulled at her lips before the mirror appeared in front of her face. A comforting weight surrounded her, like a warm blanket had been draped around her. She knew it was his arms even before touching the mirror.

  He was standing behind her, with his arms around her shoulders, and without any fear or question, she leaned back, knowing he’d support her.

  “Your company left,” she said unnecessarily.

  “Yes.”

  “What did Cliff need?”

  The skin covering the top of her ear tingled, and her stomach fluttered at the wonderful sensations slowly growing inside her. She didn’t need the reflection in the mirror to know he’d kissed her ear, and that the hand not holding the mirror was pressed against her stomach.

  “Just checking up on me,” he said.

  “He’s a good friend.”

  “Yes, he is, always has been.”

  Her mind was not on Cliff being a good friend, or any other man. She wanted to spin around and kiss him. Hold him and kiss him and make love with him. The desire was as crazy and powerful as the notion that it had happened before. That they’d made love in this room, with the flowered wallpaper surrounding them.

  His reflection in the mirror was looking at her and the smoldering gleam in his eyes said he was recalling the same thing. That should be mortifying, but instead it thrilled her to the core.

  The pressure around her increased, his arms tightening. His lips never moved, but she heard him whisper, “I love you.”

  Her response was silent as well. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Not being able to express how much he loved her, how much he wanted her, was about the hardest thing Rance had ever experienced. His lips lingered as he kissed the side of her face, and though he could taste her, feel her, he still couldn’t. It was crazy, but she wasn’t really there, inside his arms. Not yet. A part of her hadn’t fully come home yet.

  Not knowing how or when that would happen added to his frustration and pain.

  “Do you see that horse out there?” she asked quietly.

  Her reflection said she was gazing over the top of the mirror, and he lifted his head to look out the window. “Which one?” A herd was in the front pasture.

  “I only see one,” she said. “A liver and white mustang.”

  “Esmeralda,” they both said at the same time. They laughed together too.

  “You don’t like that name.”

  “I never said that,” he answered.

  “You think it’s a silly name for a horse.”

  “That I did say.”

  “But Beth named the horse,” she said. “Therefore, you never considered changing it. That was Beth’s horse, wasn’t it? A liver and white mustang mare named Esmeralda.”

  They were looking at each other in the mirror again. “Yes,” he answered.

  She closed her eyes, and when she opened them her brows were knit together. “Why do I know these things? How do I know these things? How can I see that horse?” She broke out of his hold without him feeling it and turned around to face him, while still holding the mirror. “I came here to inventory antiques, and then I met you, and I wanted to find a way to save you from a lonely, solitary existence.” A tear slid down her cheek and she shook her head. “But now, now I…I…”

  His heart tightened in his chest. “You what?”

  Confusion filled her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What I should do or ho
w to do it. I-I don’t even know who I am. I’m different when I’m here.”

  He reached for her hand, but his went through hers as easily as it did thin air. He balled his hand into a fist before trying again, but it was to no avail. It made no sense, how one minute he could feel her and the next he couldn’t. It was almost as if she was floating in and out of his world. Of his time.

  Like a beacon of light on a dark night, Hiah’s voice came to him. “She must find her spirit home.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  He hadn’t meant to say Hiah’s words aloud and shook his head. “I know it’s hard to grasp, even for me, but, Hiah, a Shoshone Medicine Man,” he added assuming she didn’t remember, “says you’ve been reborn, but that your spirit needs to find its spirit home.”

  She’d taken a step back. “Reborn?”

  The fear in her eyes told him to use caution. “Yes. The Shoshone believe we have many lives, and—”

  “I’m not Shoshone,” she interrupted. “And Hiah isn’t a real medicine man. He portrays one in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Shows. I’ve seen posters of the show with him in them.”

  “Yes, he is in Buffalo Bill’s shows, and he’s a medicine man. He’s also my great-uncle.”

  “But this isn’t about me.” It’s about him. And saving his ranch. And… She attempted to take a deep breath to calm her bouncing nerves. It was like she was a kernel of corn in a popcorn popper, being shot from one extreme to the other. She could feel his touch, then she couldn’t. She knew things, and then didn’t. And she wanted things, impossible things that made no sense what so ever. But reborn…

  Her head started to swirl and her chest clench. Dread bubbled in her stomach, and her skin turned cold and clammy. “No,” she muttered. “Not again.”

  Knowing what would come next, she let go of the mirror and ran for the kitchen. “This is too much. It’s just too much. I can’t do it. Don’t need to do it.” Grabbing her bag off the chair, her purse and cell phone off the table, she spun for the door.

  The mirror floated before her. “I’m not Beth,” she said overly loud. “I haven’t been reborn. She hasn’t been reborn.”

  A hum filled the room and the mirror shook. She refused to touch it even though it made her heart ache.