Ring of Fire (28 page)

“I didn't,” she grumbled. “I'm still not sure it's a good idea. I don't know how it would work. Or if the Cantrell curse would mess things up.” She scowled. “But the fact is, I love you.”

At least this time she'd left off the dimwit part, though it was obvious she wasn't happy about her feelings. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't either. Yes, the idea of being loved by Lark, by a woman he cared for and respected so much, was incredible. But it wasn't right. They had set the ground rules right at the beginning, and both had excellent reasons for setting them. Now she'd gone and broken them. And because she had, she was asking things of him that he couldn't give. When he said no, he would hurt her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. This wasn't fair.

Her voice softened. “This weekend brought it home to me. You were there for me, and I wanted you there. By my side. Through the tough times as well as the good ones.” Her lashes swept down and then back up. Gazing straight into his eyes, she said, “Tell me you don't have feelings for me, Eric.”

“Of course I do.” Now she was being the dimwit. “I like you a lot.”

“Is that it? Is that all you feel?”

Why was she doing this? Making things so hard for both of them? “I, uh, I care. For you.” More than he'd ever cared for, or imagined caring for, another woman. “And for Jayden. Even for Mary. But this isn't what we agreed on.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So, adjust. Soldiers need to be flexible, right?”

He seized onto that word,
soldier.
“Lark, I've told you I'm a soldier. It's all I know. It's what I want to do, until the day I retire.” And what then? It was obvious his dad didn't have a clue about his own retirement. He'd built his life around the army rather than around his wife and kids, or other interests. Eric did have other interests now: riding, maybe helping other trauma survivors. He'd be okay when he retired. Even if he was alone . . .

“If that's truly what you want,” Lark said slowly, “but if you could also see yourself being part of my family, maybe we could find a way of working that out.”

Being part of her family. That sounded . . . like heaven. Except, no, it didn't. It sounded a lot like torture for all of them. “How on earth could that work?”

“I'm not like your mother.”

“God, no. I don't want that. I'd never want you trying to shape your life, much less Jayden's and Mary's, around mine.”

She gave a firm nod. “Agreed. And I don't want you shaping your life just to please us. But sharing is different from shaping. I didn't think I'd ever want to share my life with a man, to trust someone to be there for me and for Jayden. That's really hard for me, but it's how I feel about you, Eric. I realized that this weekend. And maybe having you some of the time, when you're able to be with us, even able to Skype with us or e-mail, is better than having none of you. That's what I'm coming to believe.”

Her chin came up. “Of course I'd have to talk it over with Jayden and Mom. I'm just saying, if you could see yourself loving me—loving us—then maybe we could find a way.”

Could they? His heart raced, adrenaline pumping. He couldn't think straight. His life would be so much richer. But if he loved them, he'd miss them like crazy when he was gone. What if thoughts of them distracted him when he was on a mission? And how about Lark and Jayden? If she was ready to contemplate taking a man into their lives, didn't they deserve more than he could give them? More than his dad had ever given him, Quinn, and their mom?

Lark had had her reasons for deciding, after her divorce, that she didn't want a man in her life. She'd held firm about that until now, but it seemed her thinking was changing. Eric had long ago decided that a career in the military wasn't compatible with having a family and, as seductive as Lark and her little family were, he still believed that.

It was time for their paths to separate. Once he was gone, she'd get over the immediate hurt and realize she didn't really love him. She could find another guy, one who actually fit her life. One she truly loved. The thought sent a stab of pain through his heart.

“Lark,” he said slowly, “I don't think it's feasible.”

“Feasible?” She slid out of bed. “You don't think it's
feasible?
” With jerky motions, she started to pull on her clothes.

He sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. “I told you that from the beginning.”

Dressed now, she planted her hands on her hips. “And nothing's changed?”

Only that, knowing Lark and Jayden now, caring about them, he couldn't imagine doing to them what his dad had done to Eric, Quinn, and their mom. “What would have changed?”

She shook her head.

“I'll walk you home.” He made to get out of bed.

She held up a hand, palm toward him, and snapped, “No, Eric. I don't want your company.” She took a breath and lowered her hand.

Did she mean tonight, or ever again? They couldn't be together in the way she was talking about, but they had to stay friends. When her emotions settled, she would realize that.

She took a couple more breaths, then said in a calmer tone, “I want you to think. Think about the past month. Think about my family and how it's different from yours. Think about yourself and what you feel. It's your decision whether the army is the career you want, and if you're sure about that, then I'll accept it. I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I'm only saying that there can be more to your life than the army, Eric. You deserve that.”

Her gaze rested on his face, her dark eyes sad and yet proud. “I've laid my heart on the line and I feel good about that. Don't reject it so easily. Take whatever time you need. When you're sure what you want, let me know.” She turned and walked out the bedroom door.

He wanted Lark. Wanted her family. But he also wanted to be a soldier, to live the life he'd committed to since he was a boy.

She might think it was possible to combine those two things, but he knew better. It would mess up her life. And Jayden's, and Mary's. He needed to set her free to find a man who could offer her all that she wanted and deserved.

Chapter Nineteen

Although Eric had been feeling out of sorts since Sunday night, he couldn't help but grin at Jayden's excitement as, during their Wednesday morning trail ride, the boy enthused about it being Halloween.

Eric was riding behind the boy. Mary led the procession on foot, lightly holding Pookie's lead rein. Sally and Corrie walked on either side of Jayden's horse. Although Jayden trotted and loped in the ring without assistance now, Sally was still cautious on the trail rides, since the situation wasn't as controlled.

“At school this afternoon, we'll be doing Halloween stuff,” Jayden said. “And after, I'll put on my costume and Granny and I will go trick-or-treating, and then we'll go to the town square.”

“What's your costume?” Eric asked, though he had a pretty good idea.

“A firefighter! Same as always.”

“Your mom doesn't go trick-or-treating with you?”

“No. It kind of sucks,” he said philosophically, “but Halloween's a real busy day for her. Some people act stupid. And she's in charge of the big bonfire and fireworks display in the town square tonight.”

Jayden rarely whined about the times his mom's work took her away; instead, his pride shone through. As did Lark's pride in her son.

Eric's heart throbbed painfully. He was coming to believe that his father would never be proud of him. And so be it. At least Eric was becoming his own man and doing what he believed was right rather than scrambling like a puppy for his dad's approval. Still, it hurt. His damned heart hurt when he thought about it.

In fact, his heart was feeling weird these days, like it was a whole different organ beating inside his chest. More like when he was a small boy and life had been full of joys and woes, before he'd learned discipline and focus. Now he got these strange surges of emotion. Like warmth and happiness over his increasing closeness to his mom and to Quinn. Affection and respect for young Jayden. And, when he thought of Lark, there was passion, tenderness, admiration, the desire to protect, and . . . well, so many things. So many emotions.

It was disconcerting, this sensation of his neatly controlled heart cracking open to spill out all these feelings. Sometimes, he thought it was a good thing, and yet it was way out of his comfort zone. But even if he'd wanted to stop the process, he wasn't sure he could. Somehow, it felt inevitable.

It was kind of like that Johnny Cash song. Like he was being pulled into that ring of fire, sucked into the flames of emotion. He didn't have a good history with fire. Would this blaze consume him or could he rescue himself from it? Or, as with the candles in his bedroom, could he find a way of enjoying the warmth and beauty of fire?

Eric hadn't spoken to Lark since Sunday night and her jaw-dropping revelation that she loved him and wanted him to consider a future together. Each day, he told himself he needed to go see her and tell her the truth, yet something held him back.

He had done as she'd requested, and thought seriously about her suggestions. Over and over. She'd offered him a huge temptation, one that made his heart leap with an excited sense of hope and possibility. And yet decisions shouldn't be based on emotion. He had to analyze the situation objectively. Fact one: He was and would always be a soldier. Maybe his career didn't give him a sense of joy, as Lark's gave her, but he had committed to it; it was who he was. Fact two: If the Cantrells took him into their lives, he would mess things up for all of them.

Tonight, he'd be bound to see Lark. He had to go to the town's festivities as a final test that he was fit to return to duty. He used to think in terms of curing his PTSD; now he realized that, like those two Korean War vets, he might never be completely rid of it. But if the flashbacks confined themselves to nightmares like the one he'd had Sunday night, or to daytime events that he could control, then he wouldn't be a danger to his men.

It struck Eric then—if he left Caribou Crossing, this might be the last time he went riding in a long time. He stroked Celebration's neck, the horse's coat thicker now that winter was approaching. Past the fence that bordered the trail, a pumpkin patch had been mostly denuded of orange globes. Jayden had told him that last night he'd carved a smiley face into a pumpkin, with his mom's and granny's help.

Eric would have enjoyed participating, but Lark hadn't invited him and she was right not to.

A burst of explosive sounds shattered the quiet morning air.

Gunfire? A grenade?
Celebration danced and snorted, tossing his head.
No, I'm not in Afghanistan, I'm in Caribou Crossing
. Eric steadied himself and his horse, casting an urgent eye ahead to Jayden. Pookie had stopped and was looking to the right, ears cocked, interested but not spooked. Corrie took the lead rein from Mary, shortening it and moving to the horse's head, stroking Pookie's neck.

Sally walked back to Eric and Celebration. “You two okay?” She ran her hand along the horse's shoulder.

“We're fine. What's that? Firecrackers?”

“I think so,” she said with disgust. “Idiots.”

“Firecrackers are dangerous,” Jayden said. “And fireworks are illegal in Caribou Crossing, except for people who have permits, like Mom. She goes around to the schools every year and tells the kids, but a few are too dumb to listen.”

“But they can't get their hands on them, can they?” Corrie asked. “If they're illegal.”

“You can get anything on the Internet,” Jayden said. “Or, like, some kids are really good with science and they can make them. You can learn how to make stuff on the Internet, too. Mom says the Internet is a, uh, mixed blessing.”

“Well, let's hope these kids don't hurt themselves,” Corrie said.

Something isn't right. There's danger nearby.
Eric's soldier instincts made him hyperalert. But then he reminded himself,
This isn't Afghanistan, it's Caribou Crossing
.
It's someone setting off a few firecrackers. No big deal.

And yet the tension didn't leave his body. Those instincts told him the danger was right here, in this peaceful part of the world. “Let's ride in that direction,” he suggested, keeping his voice calm.

Sally shot him a startled look and he gave her a single nod, which held enough authority that she said, “Okay. Jayden, Corrie, Mary, be extracareful with Pookie, in case more firecrackers go off and startle him. Eric, I'll walk with you and Celebration. Pay close attention to him; he's more prone to startle than Pookie is.”

As their procession got under way again, Sally said, “We're heading toward the Wendell farm. There's a gate a little ways along. They won't mind if we trespass on their land to make sure everything's okay.”

“Those firecrackers sounded close,” Eric said. “Where's the Wendell house?”

“Maybe a mile away, up by the road. You pass it when you drive to Ryland Riding. A yellow house with red trim. But there's a tumbledown shack not far from here, near the creek. It was probably the original farmhouse. You can see it from the trail that runs along the other side of the creek.”

The ruins of a wooden shack. Illegal firecrackers, and maybe other fireworks as well. It had been a fairly dry autumn. “Do the Wendells have kids?”

“I've seen a couple of boys playing by the shack when I've ridden by,” Sally replied.

Jayden started to speak, but another burst of firecrackers cut him off. When the sounds had died, he said, “There's these twins at my school, Mike and Arty Wendell. They're a year ahead of me.” With envy in his voice, he said, “They're cool. They can do anything. Like climb to the top of the tree in the schoolyard.” He quickly added, “Not that I would, even if I could. We're not allowed to and it's dangerous and stupid. But all the same, it's cool that they can.”

The twins sounded exactly like the kind of kids who'd get their hands on illegal fireworks and sneak away to the back of the family's property to set them off. Hopefully, the parents were home, had heard the sounds, and would go to stop their sons or at least supervise.

Sally moved to the head of the procession and opened a gate in the fence. Pookie went through, then Celebration, and Sally latched the gate. A trail led through the grass, indicating that someone occasionally rode or walked this way to join up with the main riding trail.

For some reason, Eric's sense of urgency increased. “How about I take Celebration on ahead?” he said quietly to Sally.

Her face sober, she said, “Go ahead. Just follow the creek. Be careful with Celebration. We'll come along at a slower pace.”

A thud sounded, almost drowning out her last word, and ahead of them fireworks shot into the air and exploded. A Roman candle. Damn. Firecrackers could injure fingers, but Roman candles could do even more damage.

Celebration danced nervously and Eric held him steady. He had learned that horses picked up on the rider's mood and it affected their own, so Eric struggled to slow his breathing, to settle the tremor running through him. He leaned forward to stroke Celebration's neck. “We can't be scared, boy. It's just some smoke and flames. Nothing's going to hurt you, but I need to get there and assess the situation, and I need your help.”

Another Roman candle shot into the air, aimed in the opposite direction. Celebration jumped again, and Eric soothed him and urged him forward. “If they're coming from two directions,” he said as the horse flicked his ears, listening, “that suggests there's two people setting them off. And that's not good.” Despite the shudder that chilled Eric's blood, he kept his voice steady and soothing as he urged Celebration into a lope. “Daredevil kids sometimes shoot the damned things at each other, playing war games or chicken or just being young and stupid.”

Another pair of Roman candles shot into the air. The horse snorted, fussing with the bit, but he obeyed Eric's firm, steady commands. And then a scent hit Eric's nostrils, carried on the gentle breeze. Smoke. Not the scent of fireworks being ignited, but wood smoke.

Like an old building catching fire.

In the pale gray autumn sky, the charcoal gray of smoke unfurled. Shit. What had those stupid kids done? Following the creek, he and Celebration rounded a curve. Eric slowed the jittery horse, taking in the scene with quick, appraising eyes.

A red-haired boy, stockier and a little older than Jayden, stood in a field of rough grass beside a metal bucket that contained fireworks. He gazed in horror at a small, tumbledown log building. Smoke rose from a back corner of the shack and orange flames licked through holes in the rotten roof and walls. Thank God the construction was of logs rather than planks; they'd burn more slowly. Still, the wood was dry and rotten. And there might be other combustibles inside, like old newspapers or dry hay. Maybe even something explosive.

Another metal bucket of fireworks stood close to the burning house.

“Just a little farther.” With his voice and body, Eric urged the unwilling Celebration toward the boy. He dismounted, glad that practice had given him agility, and hung on to the reins as the horse backed away, trying to get free.

“Are you alone?” he demanded of the boy. “Where's your brother?”

“Arty's”—the boy gulped, still gaping at the fire as if mesmerized—“he's inside. We didn't mean to cause any trouble, honest we didn't. We were just playing. I wasn't really shooting at him, honest. But a rocket misfired and it fell through a hole in the roof, and something started to burn. He ran in to put it out, and he hasn't come out.” As if his words had jolted him out of his trance, the kid started to run toward the building.

Eric took two strides and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. “Stop!” Holding the kid and the horse's reins with one hand, he yanked his phone from his pocket to call 911. Fuck. No reception.

Led by Sally, the others arrived behind him. “Oh, my God!” Sally cried.

Eric swung to face her. “There's no cell reception?”

She shook her head. “It's too far away from the towers. You have to go back half a mile or so. I'll take Celebration and go.”

There'd be a phone at the house, but from what she'd said it was farther away. Eric's mind rapid-fired, constructing a plan, assessing needs and resources. “No, Sally, wait. Corrie, take Celebration and hang on to this kid, keep him out of trouble.” She was the largest of the three women and, he guessed, the strongest.

When she'd hurried to obey, Eric strode over to Jayden. The boy's eyes were huge, but he sat straight in the saddle, gripping the reins firmly while Sally held the lead rein. Pookie seemed far calmer than Celebration. “Got your phone with you?” Eric asked. At the boy's nod, Eric said, “Can you ride back? Make the call?”

“Eric, let me—” Sally started.

Eric held up his hand, stopping her. “I need you elsewhere.” She and Mary could form a bucket brigade, a task Jayden couldn't help with.

“Jayden,” he said, “be honest. Are you okay with doing that? If not, tell me. This isn't about pride. It's about an effective strategic plan.” When he and Jayden had played firefighter, they'd worked out that kind of plan together, so he knew the boy understood the importance of telling the truth.

Jayden, pale-faced, nodded his head firmly. “I can do it, Eric.”

For a moment, Eric saw Danny's face instead of the boy's. Danny, dying because of a task Eric had assigned to him. But there were no IEDs here. There was a smart boy who was a capable rider. A boy Eric trusted.

He patted Jayden's leg. “Don't go any faster than you're comfortable with. Your safety's the most important thing. That's the first rule, right?” It was one of Lark's rules, as chief, and Jayden always recited it when he and Eric were strategizing.