Country Roads(88)

“Farewell?” A pang of alarm seared through her. Was he saying good-bye to her already?

“I’m donating the bike to the charity auction,” he said. “It’s time to hang up my helmet.”

Relief made her nearly giddy until the full import of what he said sank in. Somehow she knew this had something to do with her painting of him. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“What gave you that idea?” he said, holding up the jacket for her to slip her arms into. “I was going to sell it, but your painting made me think of using it as a fund-raiser. It’s for a good cause.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was lying in some way. “But you and the Harley just go together.” She made a gesture of frustration. “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t done anything except show me a good time,” he said. “Now let’s ride.”

She snugged herself up against his back as she had before, already mourning the fact she would never do this again. She swallowed hard to move the lump out of her throat.

The big engine yowled as he peeled out. He was riding less gently than the first time. She wasn’t afraid, but the sense that he was deliberately pulling away from her persisted. His anger at her ride on Darkside hadn’t dissipated; he had simply redirected it in some way.

They sped onto the highway and headed out of the town. As they passed the entrance to the interstate and kept going on the winding, hilly local route, she understood that he wanted the curves, to really feel his bike on this last joyride before he handed it over to the auction. It was sort of like the way she felt about leaving Darkside. She let the wind and the speed and the noise wrap around her like a comforter she was snuggled under with no one but Paul.

He slowed and turned onto a dirt track, bouncing along at low speed through a field dotted with bushes. The track climbed gradually until they came out on a ridge overlooking the ribbon of river far below. Paul killed the engine and swung off the bike, taking her hand to help her down.

“Where are we?” she asked, lifting off her helmet and shaking out her hair.

He put both helmets on the seat. “The family farm.”

“I didn’t know you came from farmers.”

“My cousin owns it. I used to come up here when I was a kid.”

“I can see why you’d like it now,” she said, surveying the view of soft-blue mountain ridges and deep-green river valley, “but kids aren’t usually into scenery.”

He half turned and gestured toward a large tree. “That’s a good climbing tree. I’d go up as high as I could. Higher every time, just to push myself. When I thought I could get away with it, I’d bring my father’s binoculars with me. I wasn’t supposed to borrow them.” The remembered rebellion lit his face. “I got whipped a couple of times for that. Of course, if he’d known where I took them, I’d have gotten worse.”

“What were you looking at with the binoculars?”

“Where I would go when I grew up.”

Julia brought her gaze back to her companion. He was staring straight out, past the river, past the mountains, into the future as he had seen it in his childhood. So he had longed to get away, yet here he was, back where he had started. “How far did you go?”

He lost the long stare. “University of Virginia Law School. A law firm in Atlanta. It seemed far enough.”

“How long were you away?”

“Seven years. Then my brother got divorced.”

“That’s what brought you back?”

He shrugged. “More or less.”

He seemed in the mood to talk, so she pushed. “Why?”

“It’s not really my story to tell.”

“How is it not your story?” Frustrated, she took hold of his jacket and gave it a shake.

He covered his hand with hers. “It involves Jimmy and Eric and Eric’s mother.”

She yanked at his jacket again. “I’m not going to go around town spilling it to everyone I see. I’m not even going to be in Sanctuary that much longer.”

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

Just like a lawyer to answer a question with a harder question. She released his jacket and tried to disengage her hand from his. His grip tightened, so she couldn’t escape. Keep it true but simple. “I want to understand you.”

“Huh.” He seemed stymied by that, and she felt a certain triumph at rendering Paul Taggart speechless. “Oh, what the hell. It’s not like the entire town doesn’t know most of it anyway.” He pulled her over to a fallen tree trunk, stopping to look at it a moment. “This tree was standing the last time I was here.”