young goat, or I’ll tan your hide.”
I lay in the darkness, feeling restless without Frank beside me. Finally I fell asleep.
I SUPPOSE IT WAS crazy to imagine that the pain and tension of the day, the new surroundings, and whatever else was playing at my mind would not lead to nightmares. What happened between the images of Devon and Raney stabbing me over and over with deer-foot knives and when I was fully awake is lost to me. All I know is that the light was on and I was sitting up in bed, sweating. Frank sat facing me, looking at me in a worried way. I was breathing hard and still feeling scared. I became aware that Bea was in the doorway, looking nearly as worried as Frank.
“I’ll take care of her,” she was saying.
“No. Go back to bed.” No ifs, ands, or buts would have worked against that tone. She must have realized that, since she left.
“Good morning, Irene. It’s about three o’clock. You’re at my mom’s house.” He saw me getting things in focus and gently lowered me back on to the pillows. Somehow, lying down again made me feel closer to the dream and I felt the terror of it again.
“Shhh,” he was saying, and softly stroking my forehead and hair. The dream and the fear retreated. He leaned over and trailed kisses from my forehead to my lips, where he lingered a while. What dream?
He smiled a self-satisfied smile when he looked back into my eyes. He looked me over. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to leave.”
“What about your mother?”
“I haven’t signed your cast yet,” he said, ignoring me while he went over to the desk and brought back the marker. He pulled off the few covers that were still on me and turned his back to me, blocking my view of what he had started to do with the marker.
“What about your mother?” I repeated.
“Don’t you like her?”
“Yes, I do, now that we’re getting to know one another. What are you doing?”
Even without seeing his face, I knew he was grinning. “I think she likes you, too. In fact, I know she does.”
“Are you glad we stayed?”
“Very glad. Are you?”
“Yes. What are you doing?”
“You’ll see.”
“Nothing too lewd, I hope. I don’t want your mother to hate me again.”
“I don’t think she ever did. I certainly hope you won’t think of this as lewd. Well, not too lewd,” he laughed.
I groaned.
He was concentrating now. I could hear the squeaking of the marker.
“Almost finished,” he said, obviously quite pleased with himself.
Bea chose this time to re-enter. Oh God, I thought. What is Frank drawing down there?
She was saying, “Listen, Frank, if you two were at least engaged—”
She broke off, staring at my right foot. Frank turned around and took my hand.
“Am I engaged, Irene?” he asked, grinning. He moved to one side.
There they were, in large black letters, each carefully colored in. Three words that would look up at me every day the cast was on:
Marry me, Irene.
Acknowledgments
James Horner, former member of the U.S. Coast Guard, thirty-year veteran of sail racing and first winner of the Cabo San Lucas Race, graciously met another major challenge when I asked for his help with this book.
I am especially grateful to Dr. Ed Dohring, orthopedic surgeon, and kelly Dohring, R.N., who answered all of my weird medical questions; to Sharon Weissman, Jenny Oropeza, and Tom Mullins for insights into political campaigns; to Detective Dennis Payne, Robbery-Homicide Division, Los Angeles Polic Department; Debbie Arrington,
Once again, I thank a long list of librarians, especially Eleanor Newhard of the Long Beach Public Library.
The individuals named above have helped with the research for this book, but I claim sole credit for errors.
My friends and family have given me unfailing support. Tim, I’m contacting the Pope about canonizing you.
Wendy Hornsby, Linda Grant, Beth Caswell, and Nancy Yost have kept me from going over the edge, and at times were too polite to point out the fact that I
Books by Jan Burke
