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  Tucker made a noncommittal noise low in his throat and focused straight ahead.

  “I heard everyone got out alive, though,” said the farmer. “Praise the good Lord.”

  “Amen.” Tucker never took his eyes off the dark highway in front of them.

  The farmer said, “Son. You kinda look like you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m guessing you’re one of the ones who crawled out from under the ruins of that country club.”

  Tucker grunted and glanced down at his wrinkled, blood-spattered slacks and shirt. Lori’s blood, he thought—and then put the thought away, shutting his mind against her. He gave the farmer a nod without glancing his way. “Yeah. I was there.”

  After a second or two, the old man asked, “You okay?”

  Tucker looked over at him then. “No. But I’m working on it.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Sorry. Guess not.”

  “Good enough, then. Sit back and let me take you where you’re goin’.”

  Ten minutes later, the farmer let him off in front of the handsome brick house where Lori had grown up. Tucker thanked the old guy and then stood there at the curb, staring vacantly after him as the rattletrap pickup rumbled away.

  Once the taillights disappeared around the corner, Tucker blinked, shook his head, and turned to trudge up the front walk.

  Dirk rose from the chair in the corner. “Lena, sweetheart.” He wore the kind of look men wear when they know they’re in the way. “I’ll be in the waiting room.” Lena went over and gave him a quick kiss.

  Lori thanked him. “Dirk, you’re about the best brother-in-law I ever had.”

  “Not to mention the only one.” Chuckling, he left them.

  Lena returned to Lori’s bedside. “You know, maybe we ought to talk about this later.” Careful of Lori’s bandages, she reached out a hand and touched Lori’s cheek. “You look real tired and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to—”

  Gently but firmly, Lori pushed her sister’s hand away. “Something happened with Tucker. I know it. What?”

  “Oh, well, I—”

  “Lena. Just tell me. Please.”

  “Well, I’m not really sure. I mean, I could be wrong…”

  “But…?”

  Lena blew out a hard breath. “Okay. I think it kind of bothered him when I, um, let it drop about how you and me switched places on him on prom night.”

  Lori’s heart stopped beating—and then lurched to racing life again. “You told him about prom night.”

  “Oh, Lori…”

  Her mouth chose that moment to go desert-dry. She swallowed, then barely managed to croak, “Did you?”

  “I, um…”

  “Just answer me.”

  “Yes.” Lena scrunched up her face as if she’d sucked a lemon. “It just kind of slipped out. I figured you’d already told him and I wanted him to know how bad I felt about us tricking him like that. By the time I realized you hadn’t told him yet, I’d already said a big mouthful too much.”

  Lori swallowed, coughed. “Water…” Lena grabbed the foam cup from the retracting tray and handed it over. Lori sipped. Her throat soothed—if nothing else—she made herself ask, “So. He took it badly?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He seemed okay—and come on, it’s not like it’s some big, huge deal or anything. It was stupid and it was wrong. But it was also a long time ago and he and I had already decided it was over between us. And, well, I mean, it’s the kind of thing we should be able to laugh about now. Don’t you think?”

  Lori let that question pass. “And after you told him?”

  “He just got real quiet. Real strange, you know? And then, when the doctor said we could see you, he wouldn’t come in with us.” She paused to swipe a drooping auburn curl out of her eyes. “He just…didn’t seem right.”

  “I see…” Boy, did she. She saw it all. And it wasn’t good.

  Her sister let out a frustrated cry. “I don’t get it. Yeah, it was a mean trick to play on him, but it’s not like it ruined his life or anything.”

  Lori stared at her sister. She thought of all the chances she’d had to tell him. She’d blown them all. And now it was too late. He already knew—and from what Lena had just told her, he hadn’t taken the news well.

  Lena let out a tiny sob. A tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a gleaming trail. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It looks like I’ve gone and messed everything up. I swear, I don’t know why I have such a problem keeping my big mouth shut…”

  Lori couldn’t let her go on blaming herself. “You haven’t messed anything up. I have.”

  Lena grabbed a tissue from the box on the tray. “Huh?” She honked into the tissue. “Come on. I was the one who had the idea for us to switch on prom night. And I’m the one who blew it and told Tucker before you had a chance to tell him yourself. So it is my—”

  Lori reached out and gently brushed her sister’s arm. “Just believe me. It’s not your fault.”

  “I don’t see how you can say that.”

  “I know you don’t. But you will.”

  Lena frowned. “Great. What you’re tellin’ me is that you’re not going to explain to me what the heck is going on, right?”

  “I can’t. Not right now. I have to talk to Tucker first. But as soon as I do, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

  “I just don’t understand.”

  “You will. Right now, though, the main thing you need to know is that you didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong here is all my doing.”

  “But I don’t…” Lena stopped in midsentence. Lori watched her sister’s face and saw the exact moment when Lena caught on. “Or maybe I do,” Lena said softly. “Prom night. You and Tucker…”

  Lori gulped and nodded, thinking, So much for my chance to talk it over with Tucker first.

  “You two didn’t really go out for breakfast, did you?”

  No more lies, Lori silently vowed. Never again will a lie pass my lips. She didn’t let her gaze waver. “No. We didn’t.”

  “And that guy, the next night. The one we all thought was Brody’s father…there was no guy, was there?” Lori shook her head. Lena said, softly, “Wow.”

  Lori said, “I really messed up.”

  And Lena nodded. “Well, yeah. You really did.”

  Tucker paused with his hand raised to ring the bell. He stared at that heavy oak front door and remembered how he’d pounded on it that afternoon eleven years ago.

  Lena had opened it and sent him away. He’d left not knowing that it wasn’t even Lena he’d come to see.

  Low in-ground lanterns shone from the flower beds. The porch light, a brass and beveled-glass creation suspended from a chain, glowed above his head. But as far as he could see, there were no lights on inside. If he rang the bell, he’d be getting them out of their beds.

  So be it. He punched the doorbell and heard the chimes echo in the shadows beyond the door.

  Then he waited. It didn’t take long. Heck, in a plaid robe, his feet stuck in a pair of run-down moccasins, pulled open the door. At the sight of Tucker, his big, jowly face went slack. “Lori? Is she—?”

  Tucker rushed to reassure the older man. “She’s fine. Resting comfortably, they said. Lena’s with her. I came to…let you know. That she’s doing well…” Damn, that sounded lame.

  But why wouldn’t it? It was lame. Heck had heard the news already from Dr. Zastrow, hours ago, before he and Enid and Brody left the hospital.

  Enid, wearing a long pink robe, her hair smashed flat on one side, appeared at the head of the stairs. “Heck? Who is it?”

  “It’s Tucker.” The big man turned in the doorway and spoke to his wife. “He’s come to tell us that Lori’s doing just fine.”

  “Tucker!” Enid hurried down the stairs. “Come in, come in. Heck, honey, where are your manners?”

  They led him to the kitchen and Enid brewed a quick pot of coffee. She poured him a mugful and fussed over him, offering eggs and
toast if he wanted them. He declined, with thanks.

  He didn’t know what he’d expected, exactly. Maybe at least a little suspicion—on Heck’s part, anyway. There was no real reason for Tucker to be showing up at their house well after midnight, rousing them from bed to tell them what they already knew.

  But Heck and Enid didn’t seem to care in the least that he really didn’t need to be there, that the news he had for them wasn’t news at all. And when he asked to see Brody, Enid popped right up and pushed in her chair. “Oh, he’ll be so pleased. He was asking about you, just before he went to bed.”

  Tucker heard himself muttering, “Uh. He was?”

  “Well, of course. You made quite an impression on him.”

  “I did?”

  Heck chuckled. “Bound to impress a boy, when you save his life—and his mother’s, too.”

  Enid added, looking misty-eyed, “Impresses a boy’s grandparents, as well.”

  Heck said, “Damn, man. Believe it. You’re almost as popular with Brody right now as that ugly mutt of yours.”

  Enid’s misty smile widened. “You come on, now. This way…”

  Tucker set down his coffee mug and fell in step behind her. She led him out of the kitchen, into the central hall and up the stairs, where she stopped at the first door on the right. She tapped lightly. They waited. No sound came from inside.

  Enid put her finger to her lips, grasped the door handle and slowly pushed the door inward.

  Light from the hallway poured into the room, a wedge of brightness across the single bed opposite where they stood. Brody was sound asleep, sprawled on his back, the covers kicked away.

  He wore blue short-sleeved Bart Simpson pajamas. That persistent cowlick Tucker had noticed the afternoon before stuck up against the pillow—the cowlick so much like the one Tucker himself had always fought to tame. The light accentuated the shadow that defined the cleft in his chin—the cleft like the one Tucker saw every morning when he looked in the mirror to shave.

  And not only the cowlick and the cleft chin. There was also the shape of his face and the curve of his mouth when he smiled.

  Mine, Tucker thought.

  There was no doubt about it. He should have seen it before. It really was damned amazing, how the truth had been right there in front of him for two weeks now, and he’d never seen it. He’d seen only what he expected to see.

  Like Lena, that long-ago night…

  He’d expected to see Lena that night. Lena, a vision in pink, whirling in his arms. Lena, nervous and so sweet, so achingly eager, naked beneath him, her soft lips forming his name.

  Even that night, his senses had rebelled. He’d noticed—how different she seemed; her eyes softer, and her voice, too. Gentler, quieter; in a strange way, more feminine. That night, she wasn’t the Lena he knew.

  Because she wasn’t Lena at all.

  Silently, Enid pulled the door shut. She whispered, “Sorry. I hate to wake him…”

  “It’s all right,” said Tucker. He’d seen what he needed to see.

  Chapter Ten

  The story of the twister that brought down the clubhouse on top of three hundred wedding guests made the first page of the Abilene News-Reporter. It also made the Dallas Morning News, though not the front page. Some eager newshound had gotten a great shot of the collapsed clubhouse under a lowering sky, with a bedraggled little knot of drenched wedding guests surveying the ruin. The picture was picked up by the wire services and popped up in papers all over the country. The story—a sound-bitesize version of it—even made it onto CNN and MSNBC.

  Sunday afternoon, Dr. Zastrow released Lori into the loving care of her parents. Once she’d hugged her son and let her mother fuss over her for a while, Lori retreated to her room and called the Double T.

  Miranda answered and asked her to please wait a moment.

  Lori said, “Sure,” and knew, beyond the last fading shadow of a very scary doubt, that Tucker would refuse to talk to her.

  Then he picked up the phone. “Lori. Hello.” And she didn’t know which was worse: if he’d refused to talk to her at all, or his voice as it sounded now. Distant. Cool. Dangerously polite. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Better all the time.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Tucker I…um…” Oh, God. How to even begin?

  “Yeah, Lori?”

  “Well, you know,” she said, her voice wobbly and weak. “We really have to talk.”

  “Talk,” he replied, as if mulling over the meaning of the word. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

  “I’m home—I mean, at my parents’ house. I was thinking maybe you could come over and—”

  He finished for her, “Have it out? Now?”

  Have it out? Dread curled through her, burning a guilty path. “Well, yes. We could—”

  “No,” he cut her off again. “Not now. We’d better wait.”

  She put her hand against her bandaged head. Suddenly, it was aching like a sonofagun again. She dared to ask, “Wait for what?”

  “How’s your head? I’ll bet it’s still hurting pretty bad.”

  It seemed like a dangerous question, somehow. She started to lie and say no, it was fine. But then she reminded herself of how she would never lie again—not even a little one. “Yes. It still hurts.”

  “I thought so. We’d better wait a while.”

  “Until?”

  “Until you’re feeling better—in fact, I’m thinking you’re going to want to cancel that appointment we had for tomorrow. You remember that appointment, Lori?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

  “Yes,” she said, out loud and clear. “I remember that we had an appointment tomorrow.”

  “An appointment to discuss the little matter you’ve known for, oh, eleven years or so that you really should talk to me about. Right?” She pressed her lips together and swallowed convulsively. He prodded, pumping up the volume, “Right?”

  “Right,” she said tightly. “Yes. To talk about—”

  “Wait. Not now. Later.”

  She echoed, miserably, “Later?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “Oh, come on, Lori. You’ve waited such a long time to tell me. It’s not going to be any skin off your nose to wait a few more days.”

  His words hit home. Squarely. She wanted to crawl in a deep, dark hole and stay there—but she forced herself to argue, “I know Lena already told you, about that night. And I think you have to see that we—”

  “I want you feeling good. Strong. When I talk to you.”

  “Tucker. Please. I just—”

  “Thursday. I’ll call you Thursday. We’ll see how you’re doing then.”

  “But I—”

  “And in the meantime, I’d like to see Brody. Would that be all right with you?”

  “See Brody?” She didn’t know why that surprised her. Of course, he’d want to see Brody.

  “Is that a problem for you?” Beneath the fake-cordial tone, his deep voice vibrated with subtle threat.

  “No. Not at all.” God. They sounded like a couple getting a divorce and discussing visitation rights. A couple getting a divorce—though they’d never gotten near being married in the first place.

  “All right, then,” he said. “I’d like to pick him up at five in the afternoon tomorrow. I’ll have him back to you by nine. Is that acceptable?”

  “I…yes. That’s fine.” She had a thousand questions. She hardly knew how to start asking them—and he didn’t seem especially eager to give her any answers. “What will you tell him?”

  He made a sound, kind of like a laugh, but with absolutely no humor in it. “As of now, nothing. I want to take it slow, let him get to know me better before I go springing any big surprises on him.”

  “Oh. Well. That sounds, um, wise.”

  “Thank you,” he said, as if he didn’t mean it in the least. “So I’ll call him—a little lat
er, this evening. I’ll ask him if he wants to come out to the ranch tomorrow, to ride Little Amos, swim, cook hot dogs, play with Fargo…” His voice trailed off.

  She thought, sadness squeezing her throat, of that night a little over a week ago, that lovely night when she and Brody had gone to visit him, together.

  That night seemed like eons ago now.

  “Lori. You with me?”

  With him? Not in the least. “I’m here. It’s all fine. Just fine.”

  “All right, then. If he says yes to coming on out here tomorrow—” he would, and they both knew it “—I’ll have him ask you. You will agree.”

  Irritation made her head throb harder. “I already said it was okay with me.”

  “Good. And if he wants you to come, too, you’ll say you don’t feel up to it.”

  She didn’t feel up to it. So that wouldn’t be a lie. She leaned back on the bed and shut her eyes. “Yes. All right.”

  “If it goes well, tomorrow, I’ll ask him to come Wednesday evening, too. You’ll tell him that you don’t feel up to going Wednesday, either.”

  She asked, though she knew she shouldn’t, “What if I do feel up to it Wednesday? What should I say then?”

  “You’ll think of something, I’m sure.”

  “I’m not going to lie to him.”

  He did laugh, then, she was sure of it. A very mean laugh. “That’s a good one. Coming from you.” She opened her mouth to call him hardhearted—and then shut it. The remark had been cruel. But it was also the truth. She’d told a boatload of lies and it would only be lying some more to pretend that she hadn’t.

  He said, “Any more objections?”

  She lifted her hand and rested it, very carefully, on the bandage that covered her pounding forehead. “You sound like a lawyer.”

  “That’s because I am one. I’ll talk to you Thursday.”

  “Wait. I…” But it was too late.

  He’d already hung up.

  Monday, Lena and Dirk were set to leave on the twoweek honeymoon they’d postponed until Lena could be certain that her twin would recover. Lori was still upstairs in bed, with the curtains drawn, when Lena dropped in to tell the family goodbye.