Reviews:
Illiaris: Thank you! I was afraid I would veer off and start writing Luke as I do Faramir. I love them both, very much, but they are NOT the same, and I didn't want to disrespect either character by making them into the same. One of the reasons I love them both so much is because they are different. One thing I do struggle with is Luke changing too much and too quickly. I don't much care for fics that dwell on a character's physical attractiveness, no matter how handsome the actor is. I would rather go into less obvious things. The vulnerability that I sometimes saw in Luke's eyes. . .the tentative sweetness that existed side by side with the trigger finger that worked faster than his brain. The man was not stupid. . .he just didn't think. Big difference.
Rosie: Thank you for spreading the word! You don't know how much I appreciate it! I honestly wasn't sure if there would be an audience for 'Dust' stories, but neither Luke nor Juliet would shut up. And I'm sure you realize that when a given character talks to you, you listen. And I agree. . .more than anything else, Luke needed to be loved. Just look at the way he responded to and interacted with Neda. She didn't love him, per se, but she cared for him, as well as taking care of him. And the reason that he found it easier to kill than to love was because he had so little of the latter. It may be an oversimplification, but it's true at its core. In some ways, he belongs to the 'I'm broke, please fix me' league. 'Fixing' may not be possible, but I'll see what I can do about the loving part!
Chapter Four
Hope You Guess My Name
The pair was silent as the ashes scattered across the cemetary where Angela's birth parents rested. Edge whispered, "Good-bye, Angela. . .it was good knowin' ya, prune." Amy rested her hand on his shoulder and Edge looked down at the ground. Once more, his eyes were caught by Luke's gravesite. Everything seemed to come back to this man. Edge asked softly, "Do you know how I knew about the shootout. . .and everything up to the moment Juliet lifted the rifle to save Luke's life?"
He sensed, rather than saw, Amy shaking her head, and Edge went on, "I dreamed about it. The night Angela died. The night I found the gold. I saw it all, Amy, in my dreams. In my dream. I don't know. . .yeah, I do. I know why it ended where it did. Some idiot woke me up just as the soldier was aimin' his gun at Luke. That's why I thought he died. That, and hearin' about Luke seein' the future."
"Luke saw a possible future, Edge, not the future. For a long time, he thought he saw the future, but he didn't. It was a possible future, and it was engineered by Lilith, to make him think that his life was over. She didn't count on Neda's determination. Or on Juliet," Amy replied. She paused and Edge looked at her as she added bitterly, "Then again, she had a habit of doing that."
She looked up at Edge, saying softly, "If Luke had died, then what he saw in his fever dream would have come true. Elijah would have raised Angela with his new wife. Once he saw Lilith for what she was." But Edge still had questions, based on what he heard from the orderlies about Angela while he wasn't there. Actually, if he remembered correctly, he was getting his other thumb broken.
"The orderlies said she was crying for 'Father.' They figured that she meant the priest. I figured later that she meant Elijah. Was she crying for Elijah or for Luke?" the young man asked. Amy didn't answer at first, choosing instead to tuck his hand under her arm. Edge asked next, "But you know. . .when she took my gun, and put it in her mouth, it. . .that don't seem like something Elijah's daughter would do. More like. . . more like something Luke woulda done."
"I don't know, Edge," Amy admitted, "Maybe she meant both of them. You're right. That is more like something like Luke would have done than Elijah. But based on what Gramma Faye told me, she had some of Elijah in her, too. She quoted Scripture, almost as often as Elijah did." Edge nodded, remembering that. In fact, that was one of the things that led him to conclude that Elijah raised Angela, rather than Luke.
However, Amy wasn't finished. She continued, "Truth is, after Luke died, and Angela alienated the rest of her family, Elijah was the only one who could get through to her. Gramma Faye always used to say it was because they were so much alike. People often said that Luke was selfish, and he could be. . .but he was honest about his selfishness. Elijah covered his up, just like Angela did."
It was on the tip of Edge's tongue to defend his dead friend, but realized they were talking about a totally different Angela. The Angela that Amy was describing came from the 1920's and 1930's, a very different woman from the one who turned his life around by telling him about Luke. Amy went on, "Gramma Faye told me that Angela went so far as to call Elijah 'Father' and his second wife, a vast improvement over Lilith, 'Mother.' She totally rejected my entire family for twenty years, until Elijah's death."
Edge found that he didn't want to talk about that, and instead, asked, "So what happened between Luke and Juliet? Angela told me once that it took Neda a long time to bring Luke back to life. And what about my dream? Why did it only show me part of the truth?" Amy smiled ruefully as she led him back to the car. Edge glanced over his shoulder at Luke's stone. It was well-tended, with flowers at its base. Neda told him that they would remember him. He didn't die there, but she was right. They never forgot.
"Your dream is easily explained, Edge. It was Luke's way of acknowledging you as a member of our family. I don't know why you only received part of the story. Maybe Luke was testing you. I just know that it's something started by my great-great-grandmother Charlotte, when she decided that someone was worthy of a member of her family. I should add that she never considered Lilith worthy," Amy added.
She smiled suddenly, adding, "Did I mention that 'Charlotte' is my middle name? Apparently, I had red hair when I was born, and since they couldn't name me 'Luke,' for obvious reasons, they named me 'Amy Charlotte' instead. As to what happened between Luke and Juliet. . .well. . .that's a story for the trip back to the airport. Luke has decided that you're a member of this family. I think it's time you met the others."
Edge wasn't sure what to make of that. Luke sent him the dream, as a way of saying, 'welcome to the family.' The trouble was, with everything else that happened to him, he realized he could believe it. It was said that Luke claimed Neda, in those last moments, before her life ended. In turn, it seemed that his last days with Luke's adopted daughter meant that Luke claimed Edge as well.
His father was long dead, and what did Angela say about Luke, before he realized that she was Neda's unborn child? Luke was a mean bastard, but he was good to her. Edge would have wanted his father to be like that. A mean bastard, but good to his family. And as the story was told, didn't Edge come to admire Luke? Want to be like him? Just like you would want to be like your father?
His dream meant that Luke accepted him, even adopted him. Edge squared his shoulders, making a silent promise to that long-ago gunfighter, I don't know if I can live up to you. . .but I'll sure as hell try. And I'll start with your great-granddaughter. In his mind's eye, he could see Luke smiling at him, and Amy said softly, as if hearing that silent conversation, "Luke and Juliet stayed two nights at that old abandoned house. They were both far more tired than they realized. . ."
When Juliet opened her eyes, early morning sunlight was streaming through the curtains. She turned her head to one side, trying to figure out what she was doing here, and slowly, the memories returned. Only a short distance away, Luke sat. His head was bent, lower lip caught between his teeth. Luke's left leg was stretched out in front of him, but Juliet could hear Angela cooing softly.
Slowly, she sat up, but Luke was too focused on what he was doing. . .namely, it seemed, cleaning up Angela. Now Juliet could see the baby waving her arms at Luke, narrowly missing his face a few times. However, he smiled down at her, and even caught her tiny fist once in a while. Juliet coughed a little, grimacing at the dryness of her throat. Luke's head came up, his shoulders going back. When he realized Juliet was awake, he relaxed and returned his attention to Angela.
"How long?" she asked hoarsely, fighting valiantly against a yawn. . .a battle that she lost. Luke didn't answer her at first, not that Juliet minded. She was trying to make sure her eyes remained open. It helped, she discovered, if she focused on something. Unfortunately, the only things around on which she could focus were Luke and the baby. Luke's own attention was focused entirely on Angela, allowing Juliet to gaze at him in peace. He didn't like people looking at him, any more than he liked being laughed at.
His head was bent over the child, his rough hands showing extraordinary gentleness as he talked to Angela in a low voice. Juliet couldn't understand a word he was saying, and didn't make the attempt. His words weren't meant for her. At last, Luke finished what he was doing and answered in a raspy voice, "We both slept a long time. Ain't sure how long, but I do know ya slept longer. Probably a day, a day and a half. Baby woke me up a few times, crying. Nah, don't apologize. Ya needed it."
He looked away again, obviously uncomfortable with meeting her eyes. Juliet frowned. That was very unlike her companion. Over the course of the first day traveling, it became easier to think of him by name rather than as 'the mercenary.' And one thing she knew about Luke. . .he tended to drive through his problems, even when he should be more subtle. There was the matter of his brother and sister-in-law, but that was an extreme situation. For him to look away. . .something was wrong.
In Juliet's experience, only one thing could make someone like Luke. . .or any man, come to that. . .react that way. She asked slowly, "While you were awake, did I talk in my sleep?" Luke still didn't look at her, but nodded, and Juliet continued, trying to make her voice as gentle as possible, "What did I say? What did I talk about?" For a long time, she didn't think he would answer.
He rose to his feet and walked away from Juliet and the baby. Juliet wanted to demand answers, but some part of her warned against it. In some ways, dealing with Luke was like dealing with a skittish or wounded animal. Extreme caution was required. He said at first only, "I gotta take this out and bury it. Can't figure out how such a little thing can make such a godawful mess."
Juliet bit back a smile at that, and instead replied, "I was changing my sister's swaddling clothes when I was very young. My mother was very sick after Drusilla was born, and she never fully regained her strength. I guess you could say I was both mother and older sister to Dru, even before Mother died." Luke deposited the bundle outside the backstep, and came back into the room.
He sat down beside Angela and lifted her into his arms, his face betraying only a hint of pain. He grew stronger daily, but she knew he was frustrated with his body's repeated betrayals. He still didn't shoot quite as well as he used to, something that caused him no end of frustration. Luke never said so, of course, but Juliet could read his face very well. She could see it in his eyes.
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own, "Drusilla. . .what kind of name is that?" He began to rock Angela back and forth, humming something under his breath. Juliet didn't know if it was a lullabye, or maybe a song from one of the cattle drives. She heard about those from Bruce, who took part in a cattle drive as a lark. Only it was anything but. He seemed to get into a lot of those situations.
"It's Latin. . .it means strong. Your name means light. At least, according to some translations," Juliet replied, accepting this neutral subject. Luke looked at her, his face expressionless, and she continued after a moment, "I'm not sure where Mama got it from. My sister's name, I mean. Maybe it was a wish that Dru would be strong, that she would have the strength that Mama thought she lacked."
"Been my experience that a woman who bears two girl-children's gotta be strong. Ma had a daughter 'fore I was born. Allison. She died when she was five," Luke answered. He looked up, pain flashing in his eyes, and added, "Ma died when I was fourteen. Died because of my bastard stepfather. . .always lookin' over her shoulder, always tryin' to look out for us. Made herself sick, Ma did."
Juliet swallowed hard, trying to imagine the effect that would have on a fourteen year old boy. She really didn't have to, not when the result sat beside her. After a moment, Luke continued, "And Juliet? What's that mean? Sure is pretty, even if it ishigh-falutin.' Ma named my sister, usin' her maiden name. Charlotte Allison Richmond."
"There are a lot of meanings, from what I can tell. Some say 'Juliet' means 'blind,' others say it means 'youthful,' and still others have my favorite meaning. 'Loving.' My mother loved Shakespeare. But she also believed in giving her children names that meant something. That why your mother named you 'Luke,' because it meant something to her?" Juliet asked.
He looked away again as Angela tried to draw one of his fingers into her mouth. Juliet smiled at this familiar behavior. After a moment, Luke replied, "She said she named me 'Luke,' since it meant 'light,' and my real pa brought light into her life. Could never figure that out, not when he abandoned her to my step-father. Don't know who I hate more. . .Richmond or my real pa."
Juliet didn't know what to say to that, so she kept silent. After a moment, Luke continued, "Ya said yer ma believed in givin' her kids names that meant somethin.' Drusilla means strong, ya told me that. But what about Juliet? What did that mean to her?" It was her turn to hesitate with her answer. This was the longest conversation she had with Luke since their apologies, and it scared her. It meant her walls weren't as reinforced as she wanted them to be. . .that was what scared her.
But she answered, "I think because she was in love with someone other than my father. Romeo and Juliet was a Shakespearean play about star-crossed lovers, from warring families. Rather than kill herself, as Juliet did, my mother chose to submit to her family's wishes and marry my father. She was never happy. My father didn't care about her. . .viewed her only as a brood mare. And he hated her when she produced only daughters. He hated us, too, for not being sons."
"Now that's just stupid," Luke said flatly, and Juliet looked at him in surprise. He shook his head in disgust, continuing, "I'll be the first to say I ain't smart. But hatin' a kid 'cause they ain't a boy? That's just plain idiotic." Juliet smiled in spite of herself, because it was the same thing she thought many times before, and Luke asked a bit defensively, "What?"
"Nothing, Luke. It was just nice to hear that from someone else. I was still a child when my mother died, and it fell to me to protect my little sister from our father's anger. I sometimes wonder if I married Bruce because I thought life would be different with him. It was. . .but where my father was angry, my husband was largely indifferent," Juliet admitted. Luke didn't answer, and Juliet looked at him quickly.
Angela was asleep in his arms, and he merely stared down at her. Juliet asked softly, "Luke? When I was asleep, did I talk about my father or my husband? Or. . .or maybe my daughter?" A soft exhalation of breath was released from her companion, and Juliet had her answer. She looked down, not knowing what to say about that. She wanted to lash out at him, for witnessing something so deeply personal.
But how could she do that? How could she blame him for sharing the same space? It wasn't his fault. . .it wasn't his fault that he heard. Luke said softly, "Ya were dreamin.' It was a good dream. . .least at first. Guess ya were dreamin' about what mighta been, if yer little girl lived. I knew it was her, 'cause I saw her name when. . . and ya called to Abigail. Then the dream changed."
Juliet wanted to silence him. . .she had the dream before. She knew what he was about to say. And yet, she couldn't. Luke went on, "Ya were cryin' in your sleep, and that made Angela cry. Ya. . ." He stopped and ducked his head, tremors shaking his body. After a moment, he raised his head and looked at her, rasping out, "If ya see them, while we're on the road. Ya tell me. Ya show me."
The last words were mumbled as he looked out the back window. Juliet was far too intelligent to ask him what he meant to do about that knowledge. Instead, she asked softly, "Why would you do anything to them? They did nothing to you, Luke, you have no reason, no need to go after them!" He whipped his head around to look at her, and she almost gasped at the pain she saw in his eyes.
"Ya don't DO that to a woman with child!" he bit out with a passion that shocked Juliet. Luke shook his head, mumbling, "I ain't a good man. I never denied that. But doing somethin' like that, to a woman when she's with child. . .that. . .I can't. . ." He shook his head again, and Juliet stared at him in shock. It occurred to her to ask if there was a time when you could do that to a woman, but dismissed it as snide.
In truth, she didn't know what to say. What could she say? And so, she kept silent, choosing instead to focus on her attention on the child in Luke's arms. He sighed quietly and looked down at the little girl himself, jaw muscles tight with tension. While the barriers were coming down, she still didn't trust him. Still couldn't forgive herself. And like Sophronia said, she couldn't forgive him until she forgave herself.
Luke felt as though he was coming apart at the seams. In some ways, it was worse than when he came back from the dead, after Elijah shot him. Then, it was because of Neda and her quiet compassion and tenderness. Now. . . This woman, this child, they were turning his world upside down. Angela by being her mother's daughter, and Juliet. . .Juliet by. . .
What the hell? Since when did he think of her as 'Juliet?' Since when. . .? He shook his head, biting back a groan of pain as Angela stirred in his arms. In a way, he was grateful for the pain and the clarity it brought. With just a whisper of movement, Juliet was at his side, pulling Angela from his arms. Her fingers grazed his wrists and Luke was so startled, he almost dropped the baby.
Dammit, that was the second time she did that to him! His skin tingled from where she touched him. He stared up at her, his heart racing. She returned the look with a faint smile. . .a faint, somewhat bemused smile which almost seemed to say, 'why are you looking at me like that?' The trouble was, he saw something else lurking there, something behind her eyes that said she felt the same strange sensation.
He never felt anything like that before. And things he didn't know, didn't recognize, scared Luke. His customary reaction was to lash out at things that frightened him, but Juliet blurred. The world spun in front of him and Luke reached out to something to steady himself. A light touch to his face stopped the dizziness, and he discovered Neda standing before him. Anything Luke might have said, any thoughtless remark he might have blurted out, died on his lips. He stared up at her and rasped out, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I shoulda taken ya with me."
Neda dropped to her knees in front of him and lightly caressed his face, murmuring, "Do not fault yourself. It was my time to die, and you could not have changed that. If you took me with you, I would have died on the journey. This I know, this I have seen. It was not your fault, Luke. Nor is it your fault that Lilith killed herself. She made that choice. . .she made that decision. Not you."
She smiled at him tenderly then, stroking his cheek once more, and said, "Now, you must take care of my daughter. And take care of Juliet. She is trying so hard, Luke. So very hard. Trying to forgive herself, trying to forgive you. Be patient with her. I know you can be. I know you are better than what you think you are. I saw it in your eyes. . .I saw it in your smile."
A tear slipped down his cheek and Neda stroked it away. She murmured, "I told you to fight for people, not for money or for gold. And you did. I told you that they would remember you. And they will. The man you were is dead. It is time for you to make a new life for yourself, Luke Hurst. It is time for you for to find a new path. If you must, right wrongs. Avenge innocents. But open your heart to love, Luke."
"I don't know how," he answered helplessly, "I don't know how! I loved my mama. . .I loved her so much, and she left me, she left us! I loved Lilith, I loved Elijah, I lo. . .I ain't like ya, Neda! I ain't even like Jules! Why can't ya understand that?" Neda's eyes rested on him, then he felt her arms slide around him, just as they did when she found him on that mountain.
But the next voice he heard didn't belong to Neda. . .it was another voice, one with a far more familiar accent. And she sounded scared, almost begging, "Luke. . .Luke, please, open your eyes! Luke!" With an effort, Luke forced his eyes open, to find Juliet staring down at him. Juliet? But. . . what happened to Neda? The woman holding him managed a weak smile, saying, "You scared me, Luke!"
He began to answer, only to groan in pain as his shoulder protested the strange position. Juliet murmured, "Shhh, let me get you back down. I'm sorry. You scared me when you passed out. One minute, you were looking at me as if you'd been poleaxed, and I went into the next room, looking for pillows and such. I figured you needed to lay down. When I came back. . ." She shook her head, but Luke could see the fear in her eyes. He didn't fool himself into thinking that she was scared for him. More like, she was scared that she would have to go on alone.
Before he had a chance to say anything, she was gently lowering him to the ground, his head coming to rest on something soft. She said softly, "I found some pillows and blankets. You need to rest, if you didn't get as much sleep as I did." Luke started to protest, started to ask about Angela, but she went on, "Don't worry about Angela. I set up a small bed for her. She's asleep right now. Go to sleep, and I'll see about food for us three. All right?"
Luke nodded wearily, because he didn't have the strength to fight her. He damned his body's weakness, but even that was half-hearted. He was still trying to figure out what the hell happened. Why did he see Neda? As he settled on the floor, Juliet draped a blanket over him and he took comfort from its warmth. She asked softly, "Did you see Neda in your dreams? You called out her name. Did you see her?"
Luke looked at her, and Juliet said softly, "I saw her. Right after our. . . confrontation." Luke almost snorted at that, but decided that wouldn't be smart. Not when he was at her mercy. Juliet continued, "I went to her grave. . .and she found me there. I figure. . .I figure she was trying to look after us. I always wondered about that, you know? If the people whom we love and who loved us watched over us after their deaths. I want to believe that. I really do."
Her fingers ghosted across his face, just as Neda's fingers did while he was unconscious, and she said, "Get some sleep. I'll find something to eat, and I'll keep watch. You're still recovering." Luke started to protest, started to tell her that she wasabossy pain in the ass. But his body once more betrayed him, and he found himself drifting away, lulled to sleep by the gentle fingers. Fingers that already saved his life once. Did he have any choices here, other than to trust her?
No. He didn't. No choices, no options, no way out. He was as trapped now as he was when surrounded by the Major's men. This, he couldn't shoot his way out of. And that thought haunted him as sleep claimed him. Claimed him, as he claimed Neda, and the woman at his side claimed him. Maybe it was the last which scared him most of all. She claimed him. It was only a matter of time before he claimed her as well, and that thought terrified him.
You'll run out of energy if you keep that up, Allison Richmond observed as Neda returned to her side. The younger woman merely smiled and Allison continued, Then again, I don't have much room to talk. By the time I was fifteen, I made more trips to the mortal world than I can count. I just. . .you need to conserve your energy. Lilith's gonna go after my little brother at some point.
And I shall be ready for her. Do not forget. We have another ally, among the mortals. And we shall prevail, Allison. We will not allow Lilith to claim Luke's soul, came the quiet, confident answer. Allison wished she could be so certain of that. It wasn't that she didn't believe in her little brother. She knew what was in his heart. She knew he was a better person than he believed. But Lilith. . .Lilith still had a hold on him, damn her! She still had a hold on him, and Allison didn't know how to break the chains.
You're right, Neda, we won't. She's just one, and we're four. . .five, if you want to count Juliet. And even by ourselves, we're a lot stronger than she is, Sarah Larabee put in. Allison looked at the other woman. By now, she, and her mother, knew that Sarah's husband was in truth Vin Tanner's older brother, his half-brother. Something Chris Larabee found out quite by accident about twenty-five years earlier.
It was that revelation which led to Allison calling her mother's contemporary 'Aunt Sarah.' At that time, Allison and Sarah spent most of their time together, since Charlotte didn't join them until nine years later. Aunt Sarah continued, She was well named. Lilith. First wife of Adam, and a night demon. The hatred in her aunt's voice was palpable. . .just as strong as it was when she spoke of Ella Gaines, the woman who killed both Aunt Sarah and Adam.
Speaking of which. . .where was Adam? It took Allison a matter of moments to find her 'cousin.' Not surprisingly, while she and her mother were watching over Allison's younger brother, Adam was watching over his father. Chris was remarried now, and had five children with his second wife. They were happy. It made Adam happy. But she knew he missed growing up with his younger brothers and sisters.
With just a thought, Allison willed herself to Adam's side. He was chewing his lower lip thoughtfully, and said as she joined him, Allie. . .shouldn't you be with the others? Allison rolled her eyes and smacked him alongside his head. Adam glowered at her, but Allison ignored him. He knew better than to call her 'Allie.' She hated it, absolutely hated that nickname.
Mother can watch over Luke and Elijah without me for a few moments. . .I wanted to see what you were doing. Are you still afraid that your father will join us prematurely? Allison asked. Adam looked up with a half smile and shook his head. Allison continued, Well, I'm glad to hear that. Considering he's. . .what? Sixty-nine or seventy at this point?
And your brother is thirty, Adam pointed out quite reasonably, but that has never stopped you from fearing for him. Allison smacked him in the head again, and Adam blurted out, HEY! That hurts! Allison just put her hands on her hips, smirking at him. Adam muttered under his breath, I don't know if you're more like your father or your mother. Allison's eyes narrowed and she shoved her cousin to the ground.
There is absolutely no need to act like that, Adam Christopher Larabee! I'm more like Mama, of course. . .he's my daddy, and I love him. I always will. But he has behaved absolutely awful. . .do you really think I would ever try to turn family against family? Allison demanded. Adam looked away, as if he realized he went too far, but Allison was having none of that.
There would be a reckoning, between her mother and father. Maybe not today, but a reckoning would come. Two years earlier, after Lilith killed herself and Elijah found the suicide letter explaining all, Allison watched in horror as her father found her youngest brother and began to turn Elijah against Luke. Elijah was already angry with his older brother. . .conveniently ignoring, of course, that it takes two. Then again, the Richmond men had a habit of doing that.
And Allison wasn't trying to make excuses for Luke, any more than she made excuses for her father's behavior after her own death. . .or for her mother when Charlotte Richmond could endure no more coldness from the man who promised to love and cherish her, and sought comfort in the arms of another man. This wasn't about making excuses. It was about crossing lines, and her father did that repeatedly.
Never more so than when he found the mourning Elijah after Lilith's suicide. Long had Will Richmond known that Luke wasn't his child. It took him more than twenty-five years to catch up with the brothers. . .and when he did, he wasted little time poisoning Elijah's mind. Not only did Will Richmond tell his only remaining child that Luke was actually his half-brother, something Luke never felt comfortable in telling his brother. But he put everything bad that happened on Luke's shoulders. . .told his son that Luke was to blame for everything. And Elijah listened.
He wanted to believe. His heart was broken, and he wanted to know whom to blame. His grief turned to rage turned to hatred, and that would not be satiated until things were settled with Luke. One way or another. Elijah swearing revenge against their brother broke Allison's heart. . .hearing her father's laughter as Elijah departed for Europe nearly shattered her mother's sanity.
Because at no time, until Elijah left for Paris, was he left alone. Every day, Will Richmond's poisoned words dripped into his ear, reminding him that it was Luke's job to take care of Elijah, as the older brother. He was his brother's keeper. Luke seduced Lilith, seduced her, then abandoned her. Lilith was the innocent, pure as the driven snow. That almost made Allison ill.
But wasn't it the same thing that her father did after her mother left with Vin Tanner? Responsibility could be shared, a lesson that Allison's father seemed to have forgotten. Will Richmond couldn't accept that he drove his young wife away with his neglect and his verbal abuse in the wake of their little girl's death. It was all Vin Tanner's fault. . .he stole Charlotte away. She didn't leave of her own free will, because she couldn't take any more. Will didn't drive her away. Tanner took her away.
And Allison repeated bitterly, I am not my father. I would never do that. Turning family against family. . .no. And don't ever imply that again, Adam Larabee. Whatever mistakes my mother made, she was honestly trying to take care of my brothers. And she was tired of being treated like dirt by my father. How can I blame her for finding comfort in Vin Tanner's arms? Your uncle made her feel beautiful and cherished!
I'm sorry, Allison, Adam replied, pushing himself to his feet. Allison backed away, eyeing him warily as he went on, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that you were. . .I didn't mean to imply you were anything like that. My ma and pa would both skin me alive. I just meant that you don't always think before you speak, but maybe that's just being raised by your father. Luke does the same thing, and so does Elijah.
Allison rubbed at her forehead, murmuring, It doesn't matter. All that matters. . .I can't do anything for Elijah right now. He's not ready to listen to reason yet. Not yet, at least. He's mourning for both Luke and Lilith right now, and he's not ready. He's still too angry with Luke, still too angry with himself. I can only take care of Luke right now, and that's only because he's not aware of me taking care of him.
I've noticed that. . .your brothers seem to have a problem with people taking care of them, Adam murmured. Allison shot a look at him, privately thinking that Adam's own father was much the same way. And her companion ducked his head, admitting, Then again, I can think of a lot of people that could describe, including my father. You need to be sneaky to get around Papa.
He paused, then continued, I think Juliet may be good for your brother. Luke, I mean. She doesn't ask him if he wants something done, she just does it. Sometimes, I think that's the best way for a woman to take care of a man. The only thing that I can't see is if he'll realize just how much he needs her. Right now, he's going forward because she's Neda's friend and he can't take care of Angela without her.
Adam quirked the corners of his lips, adding, Of course, there's also the matter of the other thing. Your brother's habit of shooting off his mouth. . .or his gun. . .first, and thinking later. How many more times do you think that will happen before he figures it out? Allison just grinned ruefully and shook her head. Her younger brother was no different from anyone else in that respect. . .she knew a lot of people who shot off their mouths. . .or their guns. . .before engaging their brains. Men and women.
As Adam and Allison continued their conversation, Charlotte Richmond's youngest child was drinking himself senseless in a tavern. At least, that's what he thought they were called here. It was like this for the last three months, ever since Luke's death. He thought some of the pain would die with Luke, but it didn't. Instead, his brother's eyes haunted him.
The shock, and yes, grief Elijah saw when he spat out that his wife was dead. . . Lilith was lost forever and her unborn child with her. While Elijah didn't kill his brother, he couldn't help feel guilty about it. Worse yet, the alcohol he consumed each night didn't dull the pain. Losing his wife nearly killed him. . .losing his brother hurt far worse. Because in the days since he said good-bye to his older brother, Elijah found himself remembering things he forgot a long time ago.
The warmth of his brother's hands on his shoulders as their mother was being buried. Luke's promise to take care of him. Until Lilith, that promise was never broken. Never. Lilith. . .Sarah. Elijah's father. Elijah's hand tightened around his bottle. Did Luke know that they had different fathers? Elijah always noticed the difference in coloring between them, but never really thought about it.
If anyone was born of an adulterous affair, Elijah would have thought that it would have been him. His own hair was much darker than either of his parents, but his father assured him that his maternal grandmother had dark hair. But Luke. . .Luke was the product of his mother's sinful desire for another man? Elijah didn't want to believe it. He was nine years old when his mother died, and he didn't want to believe that the woman whom he so adored was capable of betraying his father like that.
But. . .there was Lilith. She betrayed him with his own brother. Tell you a secret, little brother. . . once a whore, always a whore. Luke's mocking words rang in his mind, followed by his father's take, He's got tainted blood, boy. His father was the same way. Took your mother away from me. Got no respect for the sacred vows between a man and a woman. Charlotte and me, we were happy 'fore Vin Tanner came along. Yeah, we had us some rough times, but who doesn't?
But. . .was that the truth? Elijah, though his mind was muddled with drink, thought about his mother while he was growing up. Never did she seem sorry that she left their. . .his father. In fact, there was always fear in her eyes when she spoke of him. Fear in his mother's eyes, and outright hatred in Luke's. Elijah didn't remember his father. He was no more than a few months old when his mother took him and Luke away from the settlement, Heaven on Earth. He remembered nothing.
When he asked Luke why he hated their father so much, Luke's simple response was typical of him. He made Mama cry. He hit her, and he made her cry. To his then-thirteen year old brother, that was the only reason he needed to give, and it was good enough for eight year old Elijah as well. He hit their mother and made her cry. That was a bad thing to do. And he didn't ask again.
Nearly twenty years later, the two truths warred with each other, because there was no doubt that both men believed exactly what they said. Elijah shook his head, trying desperately to clear it. What was the truth? An image flashed in his mind, of the dark-haired American woman who refused to allow him to take the child home with him. He wanted. . .wanted to finish what his brother started, he guessed.
Elijah thought in the beginning that the dark-haired woman was one of the villagers, until she spoke to him in American-accented English. She wasn't from the Southwest. . .more like the East Coast. And upper class. Elijah spent enough traveling during the last two years to know an upper class accent. What she was doing here, he had no idea. And she wasn't inclined to explain it to him, either.
She didn't like him. He didn't realize then, but he saw it now. Why didn't she like him? They never met. But he could hear it in her voice, could see it in her eyes. Why is it your brother's fault that your wife killed herself? When he told her about Lilith's death, she arched an eyebrow and asked, So your wife couldn't make up her mind before she married which brother she wanted? Seems to me there's plenty of blame to go around. Or is that the problem? Your wife is dead, so you can't blame her?
Strangely enough, there was sadness in her eyes as she made the last statement. Not disgust or contempt. But sadness. Elijah sighed, burying his head in his arms. He wished Luke was here. It wasn't like their mother, who would hold Elijah and tell him everything would be all right. But Luke was all he had left. His father was an old man, and who knew how much longer he would be around?
Luke was someone solid and real, someone who, up until two years earlier, was always there for him. Even if he didn't have comforting words, he was there. And up until now, as Elijah tried to remember exactly why he wanted to kill his brother, the younger brother never realized how much he missed that. Just the knowledge that Luke would be there.
You were supposed to be my keeper, Elijah told his brother during their last confrontation. He repeated those words to the American girl, and got another disgusted glance. As if he said something incredibly childish. The old woman, the one who told him that an hour after death, one's true face was revealed. . .she told him why the girl looked at him that way. She had a younger sibling as well. . .a younger sister. And her younger sister considered herself the elder's keeper. Just as surely as the elder was the keeper of the younger. They take care of each other, the old woman told him in Greek.
But that was different. They were women. . .that was what women did. Even at the brothel, the Cherry Orchard, he saw it. The women in the cathouse took care of each other. Lilith told him that. With men, it was different. The old woman just shook her head, as if at a foolish child, then wandered off, muttering under her breath. But it was true. It was the responsibility of the older brother to take care of the younger. Papa said so. He said so, and he said that Luke failed him.
Who was telling him the truth? Elijah didn't know. He didn't know, he was barely able to hold onto a coherent thought, and his head ached unbearably. He paid for his drink, then staggered to his room. He stayed here for the last three months. It was maybe a four day ride from the village where Luke died, from where he found his brother for the last time.
He rode as far as he could after looking at his brother one last time. For two years, he followed the trail left for him. It didn't surprise him that his brother fell in with the worst of the worst. What did surprise him was when his conscience pricked at him, after leaving his brother barely conscious. What surprised him further was that when he went back, he found Luke gone. Knowing that Luke was injured, and that Luke had to have turned around, Elijah went back in that general direction.
It was there that he found his brother dead. His brother. . .his self-centered older brother. . .sacrified his life trying to protect a pregnant woman. His sacrifice was and was not in vain, for while the woman, Neda, died, her daughter survived. Elijah wanted to take the little girl to the States with him and raise her. . .but the old woman rightly pointed out that he was one man. How would he take care of a child? And besides, he was told the American girl lost her own child.
She would be the one who took care of the orphaned child. The motherless child and the childless mother. So Elijah would have to find his healing elsewhere. Exhausted, he fell into bed. But even as he closed his eyes, his brother continued to haunt him. Luke's voice echoed in his mind, 'Why'd you shoot me?' The only answer Elijah had wasn't an answer. 'I don't know.'
I don't know what I'm doing.
That was what circled in Juliet's mind as she kept watch and ate some of the bread they brought with them. Luke fought sleep, as he fought everything else in his life. She wondered if he knew how to do anything else. That wasn't true, nor was it true. She watched him with Angela. . .if anything was worthy of her questions, it was that. How did a mercenary learn how to take care of a child? Juliet shook her head.
He wasn't always a mercenary. After all, mercenaries were made. They weren't born. Psychology was still in its infancy, but that conclusion seemed like common sense to Juliet. Mercenaries were made, men weren't born mercenaries. And he had a younger brother. The trouble was, from what she learned during the last three years, it required a particular mentality, being a mercenary or a bounty hunter. Yes, she took a life. But there was a difference between killing to protect another and. . .
Not that her father would have understood such a distinction. Taking a life was taking a life was taking a life. There was no difference between the reasons. Taking a life was never an acceptable thing to do. They were civilized people, and therefore above such behavior. It was better to die than to kill. Once, Juliet believed that way. Now? Now she wasn't sure what she believed. For that matter, she wasn't sure if she believed in anything. She wasn't even sure how she felt about killing that soldier.
During the last few months, Juliet stopped really thinking about anything. She was afraid of examining anything too closely. Afraid of what she might learn. And she really didn't want to think about the soldier that she killed. Did he ever think about those whom he killed, that soldier? Did Luke? For weeks now, she focused on those whom she helped to save. She focused on Angela, and on Luke.
But right now, neither of them needed her. Angela was asleep, and so was Luke. She was alone. No one there to distract her. She didn't want to think about the man she killed. And yet, his face was there. In front of her. His face forever frozen in a mask of surprise and pain. Juliet shuddered, whispering, "I did. I killed him. And I'd do it again. I would." What did that make her?
Thatfrightened her. Wasn't she supposed to feel sick that she took the life of another? Why did she feel nothing? Juliet shuddered again. What was wrong with her, that she felt nothing? No joy. No sorrow. No relief. She felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was a terrible numbness in the center of her chest, one that she ignored ever since Neda died.
When she awakened in the village for the first time, after the Teacher and his men rescued her from the mercenaries, she felt as she did now. Cold inside. Her child was dead. Her husband was dead. She knew that she was supposed to feel. . .something. Some anger, some grief. But her soul was too shattered for her to feel anything. It wasn't until Luke brought up Bruce that her anger exploded.
Why? Why, when she began admitting in her heart that the Teacher was right? Because deep in her heart, there was a part of her that believed what Luke said. Why did Bruce not defend her? Did he think she was not worth it? And in the end, wasn't that what Luke was saying? That Bruce died just to get away from her, that Bruce would have rather died than remain married to her?
It was a childish way to look at it, but if Juliet was truthful, the little girl she was once remained within her. In that respect, she was not so very different from Luke. She began to realize, while he was talking about his mother, that in some ways, he remained the fourteen year old boy he was when his mother died. The same was true of her. There was a part of Juliet that never grew up after her own mother died.
The more mature way of looking at it, of course, was that Bruce didn't know how to defend himself and his wife. But even if that were true. . .couldn't he have protested when those vile animals ran their hands down her body? Couldn't he have at least told them to stop touching her, instead of just standing there? Why did he think she wasn't worth defending, why did he think she wasn't worth protecting?
And they were drifting away from the original topic. . .about the soldier. But Juliet didn't want to think about him. Instead, she looked at Luke, who was sleeping on his good side. Ever so often, he would moan softly in his sleep or murmur something. She couldn't hear what he said, and maybe that was for the best. Did she want to know what he dreamed about? Juliet really didn't think so.
Instead, she thought about what he said to her, shortly before he fell asleep. If they saw the group that raped her while they were on the road, he wanted to know about it. She hoped they never saw those men. She would be pleased if she never saw their faces again. At the same time, Juliet was well aware of what Luke would say, if she told him that. She could just hear him saying, 'oh, but I hope we do!' Yes, that was exactly what he would say. And he would kill them. Every last one of them.
Which meant that Neda was right. Yet again. As much as Juliet loved her, there were times when Neda's tendency to be right drove her insane. Neda told her that if Luke claimed her, he would protect her. He already vowed to do just that, when he told her that he would avenge what was done to her three years earlier. 'Ya just don't do that to a woman when she's with child,' he had said, almost trembling with rage.
She still wondered if he thought there was an acceptable time to rape a woman, but couldn't bring herself to ask that. It occurred to her that it was ironic. This mercenary, member of a profession she still considered to be scum of the earth, this mercenary was willing to defend her soiled honor and avenge her fall from grace. The same honor her husband failed to defend. The same honor her husband didn't think was worth defending, and she was his wife.
"Why would you do that?" she asked the sleeping man in a voice barely above a whisper, "why would you defend a woman you barely know, against your brothers-in-arms? A woman you don't even like?" Although, she had to admit, he was thawing. They both were, although 'thawing' was perhaps the wrong word to use with Luke. He was fire and she was ice. If anyone was thawing, it was her.
"Ya didn't deserve what they done to ya," came a soft, unexpected reply. Juliet jolted and stared at Luke, who was staring up at her. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but they were open. She started to apologize, but he continued, "I told ya. I ain't a good man. But yer one a' mine now, and ain't no way somethin' like that's gonna happen to ya again."
Juliet didn't know what to say to that. And it wasn't necessary, for Luke continued, "It don't matter how much I try to run away, ya know? Neda's always there. And so are you. Yer one a' mine now, Jules. You and Angela. If we find them on the road, I'll make sure they don't rape another woman, pregnant or not. They ain't never gonna hurt another woman like that."
Well. That answered that question. They were both silent a long time. Juliet observed Luke through lowered lashes. His face contorted as he talked, and she could see the struggle in his eyes. He didn't want this responsibility. He didn't want the responsibility of protecting and avenging a woman. But it was like Sophronia said. He couldn't go back to the way he was before. Neither of them could.
And it was that knowledge that led Juliet to say quietly, "Get some sleep, Luke. I'm sorry I woke you up. I. . .I just realized that I killed someone and I don't know how I feel about that. I suppose that sounds silly to you. But. . .I should feel something. Sick, or something. But I don't, and I don't know what's wrong with me." She shook her head, biting her lower lip. Much to her surprise, she felt a warm hand on her knee.
"There ain't nothin' wrong with ya, Jules. It just don't seem real, is all. Don't mean that yer like me. Ya ain't. Yer good. Like Neda. And it don't sound silly.Kept watch long enough. I put the horses behind the house. We'll be all right here. Go back to sleep," Luke urged in a sleepy voice. Juliet was inclined to think that he wasn't fully awake. But she slipped down beside Angela, and draped a protective arm over the little girl. Luke was right. She was still very tired. It wouldn't hurt if she dozed for a little while, would it? Of course not.
She ended up sleeping another nine hours. So much for just dozing.