Indigo Lake

His head gently bumped her shoulder as he closed his eyes and breathed in. Before he exhaled, he was sound asleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u4587fbbb-578e-5caf-9983-b50a9319798e)

LAUREN WATCHED THE SUN coming up over the small lake community a few miles from Crossroads where she’d grown up. The light seemed to fight its way between the clouds in no more hurry to start the day than she was.

Rain had charged in waves during the night, making staying out at the fire site or sleeping impossible. The fact there had been a fire on the Collins ranch bothered her, but the possibility that Lucas would get involved worried her more. Reid and Lucas had never been friends and after Reid fired Lucas’s father, she was afraid they might be well on their way to becoming enemies.

Maybe that was why she’d come here to her father’s house last night. She needed to feel safe. Here, just as she had in childhood, all seemed right and fair with the world.

She had her own place above the small office she rented in town, but this house on the lake, Pop’s house, would always feel more like home. Sometimes she just needed to be here, if only for one night.

Since her father had remarried a few years ago, laughter and music always seemed to echo in the small rooms where she’d grown up. It had always been a safe place, but now it was a happy place, as well.

Last night she needed to feel as if she belonged somewhere. Her father had gone to the fire, and his bride was in Nashville for a few weeks recording songs she’d written in the lake house. Lauren could come home and no one would notice.

She admired her stepmother, Brandi. She’d followed her dream to be a singer, but she’d been smart enough to find Lauren’s father to marry. She’d proved to Lauren that a woman could have both.

Memories circled round, reminding Lauren of dreams she’d lost or given up without ever seeing how far they might take her. She hadn’t been brave like Brandi. She’d always been afraid to try.

The trouble with burying dreams is it leaves you hollow, she decided. But sometimes hollow is better than broken. She’d never been brave enough to risk losing. A brave sheriff’s daughter afraid to try.

Walking out onto the deck Pop had painted blue when they moved in over twenty years ago and never remembered to repaint, Lauren stared into the pale light, wishing she could feel its warmth. The whole world seemed cold and silent as darkness still held to the shadows of the empty house.

Brandi had hated leaving Pop, but he’d insisted she go. He had no doubt she loved him, but she loved music too.

They couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. Lauren had the feeling, thanks to Brandi’s income from songwriting and performing, that they could afford the biggest place in town, but they were happy here. The little lake house. The home Lauren’s mother had always called “the tiny house” and often complained about, even though she’d never lived in it. When Lauren’s mother left her dad and Crossroads, she’d left Lauren too.

Footsteps sounded on the boat dock just beyond the deck. Lauren turned and watched Tim stumbling up to the steps. His bad leg never seemed to take steps without a struggle.

Tim O’Grady had kept his parents’ old cabin on the lake as a vacation home, but he rarely dropped by. Tim had become a drifter in many ways. He traveled, lectured some, said he was doing research in cities all over the world. He told her about all the places he’d visited in long blogs he kept online, but she sensed he made up the people he said he met. Never any pictures of people, only places.

In her online newspaper, Lauren did a weekly post of Tim’s travels and book deals. He didn’t know or care that hundreds followed his career.

He smiled as he stepped into the yellow light of the one deck lamp. “I figured you’d be over here at your dad’s place, L.”

“You heard about the fires at Reid’s ranch?” She wrapped her sweater around herself and moved closer. “Fire department probably woke up half the town heading out a few hours ago.”

“I knew before then. When the volunteer firemen started getting calls on their cells, half the bar cleared out. Fire at the Bar W is big news. I dropped by the sheriff’s office to see what was going on, but Pearly didn’t know much and didn’t seem to appreciate me calling 9-1-1 to ask questions.”

He grinned. “Wish your pop’s wife would have been there taking calls like she sometimes does. She is one beautiful woman, but she barely talks to me, either. Mind telling me how a guy like your dad landed someone as classy as her?”

“I have the feeling Pop asks himself that every day. She’s grand. She makes him take a vacation twice a year and insists they eat right. When they married, I stopped worrying about him and passed the job to her.”

They sat down on a bench that faced the lake. Tim took her hand as if he wanted to hold on to something familiar, something real. “I feel out of the loop. There was a time I knew everyone in town. I knew about every call that came into the county offices. Hanging out at the sheriff’s office gave me ideas for my first three books. I thought I was in the center of the world back then.”

“Pop will be home soon. He’ll fill me in, then I’ll tell you everything.” Lauren patted his shoulder, knowing how he loved details. Tim saw life, his and everyone else’s, as simply an ongoing story. “Pearly told me two hay storage barns on the Collinses’ place went up. Both total losses. Since it was stormy last night, lightning could have set one but not likely two.”

“Agreed. Something’s going on out there.” Tim finished her thought.

“Something?” Lauren echoed.

“Anyone could have set them out of anger.” Tim thought out loud. “Plenty of people hate the Collins family. I know I do. Reid has a lot of good-time buddies, but he’s made his share of enemies too.”

“I know. Besides you hating him, there’s about thirty cowboys who lost their jobs yesterday. Lucas’s dad might even be suspected. He was the Bar W foreman forever. I can’t believe he was just kicked off land he’d worked for thirty years.”

Tim shook his head. “Don’t seem much like the cowboy way to set a fire. I wouldn’t put it past Reid to set them himself. Maybe collecting insurance money is faster than selling hay. Or maybe Lucas went a step further than taking a swing at Reid. I’ve never seen him so angry. He may be a lawyer, but that swing last night was personal. Reid hurt his family. I wouldn’t be surprised...”

“It wasn’t Lucas.” She interrupted Tim’s rant.

“Oh, yeah? You haven’t seen the guy in years and you think you know him?”

Tim’s words came fast, almost angry. “L, you always put him on a pedestal. Lucas the Great.”

“I know he didn’t set the fires because I was with him. We were on Kirkland land only a mile away. We saw the first one flame up and before we could call it in, another one went up.”

Tim stood up so fast she jumped. “Of course you were, L. Lying about seeing Lucas hit Reid is one thing, but giving him an alibi is another. One lie too many, maybe. How many times do you have to pay the guy back for saving you that night at the Gypsy House? He caught you. Kept you from falling. It was instinct. You don’t owe him anything.”

“No. I was with him. I found him out looking at the stars like I said I would. I’m not covering for him. I’m just telling the truth.”

Tim offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’m sorry. I’m not sober enough to be reasonable or drunk enough not to care.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “It’s good to be home. You’re the one person I miss when I wander.” He hugged harder. “You’re the last person I should yell at.”

She hugged him back. “I miss my best friend also,” she whispered.

He rubbed his chin against her hair. “No one’s hair feels or smells like yours. It smells like it looks, like sunshine on a spring day.”

She laughed. “That’s what you miss, my hair?”

“No. That’s not all. I miss laughing with you and talking like we used to. I think I’ve told you every secret I’ve ever had. How about we both get some sleep? It’s almost daylight. I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight. We’ll catch up.”

“It’s a date. I’d love to talk to you about my next book. I’m thinking of doing nonfiction. The Ghosts of West Texas. A friend of mine tells me there are places around here where spirits walk the land on moonless nights.”

He smiled. “I can’t wait to hear about it.” He kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back.

“Or,” he laughed, letting her know he was joking, “we could sleep together and order takeout from bed.”

“Crossroads doesn’t have takeout.”

He nodded. “And we’re not sleeping together.”

“Right.” She almost added, been there, done that, but she didn’t want to bring up the past. She’d almost lost her best friend when she’d ended their short affair, if she could even call it that. Lauren wished they could both erase those few times when they were more than friends, less than lovers.

He turned and walked back the way he’d come, mumbling something to himself. At the dock, he waved and called, “See you later, alligator,” the same way he had all those years ago when they were kids.

“After a while, crocodile,” she said so low she doubted he heard her. Lauren watched him, thinking her life would be so simple if she loved Tim as more than a friend.

Only she didn’t.

Deciding it was too cold to stay out any longer, she walked toward the door that opened into her father’s study. She’d finish the night in her father’s recliner so she’d be there when he came home.