The rain Mrs. Nguyen had predicted started then, as heavy and sudden as any storm Tess had ever experienced. It clattered on the tin roof, cascaded from the pecan-clogged gutters. It was as if watery drapes had been thrown over the world, blotting out everything.
'My car windows!' She ran through the rain to roll them up. When she returned, soaked to the skin, Crow was still sitting on the bedroll. For some reason, he seemed more surprised to see her now than he had been when she first arrived.
'I thought you had just uttered the greatest exit line of all time. ‘My car windows!''
'Why would you think that?' she asked, squeezing water from her sodden braid.
'Because that's your style, Tess. Cut and run, with a few banalities about the weather, or your inability to make a commitment.'
'I was trying to be fair to you. I had met someone else-'
'Tess, there's
Tess was shivering in her wet clothes. 'I'm not sure I'm ever going to find someone I want to be with forever and ever.'
'Then you probably won't.' His voice wasn't unkind. 'Look, I don't want you to drive while it's raining so hard. You don't know this area. The low-water crossings will be five feet deep, you could be washed away if you make a wrong turn. Stay the night.'
She pulled her T-shirt away from her skin, and it made a rude smacking sound. 'You don't want me to leave because you need a ride into town tomorrow.'
'Maybe.' But he was smiling now, pouring on the charm.
'If I take you in, you have to let me come along.'
Crow hesitated, but only for a moment. He had no leverage, he had to see that. It was a package deal, Tess and the Toyota. 'Okay. Emmie knows you, so she won't freak out. She likes you, in her own way. In fact, she used to study this photo I had, the newspaper photo of you and Esskay.'
'The one you showed Mrs. Nguyen, so you could search my room at La Casita. '
He wasn't listening to her. He was studying her face, with his detached painter's eye, as if planning to sketch her yet again.
'Your hair is going to get all snarly if you let it dry like that,' he said. 'You better comb it out.'
'I don't think I have a comb in my knapsack. I wasn't planning on a slumber party.'
'I do. I have a toothbrush, too, if you want it.' He left the room and came back with both, obviously proud of himself.
'You were ready to evacuate all along, weren't you?' Tess asked.
'No, but I had the presence of mind to grab a few things before I jumped. I had my choice of toiletries, I just didn't have any money or food. I had to sleep in Brackenridge Park the first night, then catch a ride up here with a crew of day workers heading for a nearby ranch.'
'Didn't it occur to you this place might be under surveillance?'
'Of course. But that was the one good thing about you finding that second body in San Antonio-it shifted all the attention down there.' He was all but preening. 'I keep the lights off to be safe, but as far as I can tell, the sheriff's deputies haven't come near this place. I have to admit I'm kind of proud of myself. It's not every man who gets away from Tess Monaghan
'Let me have the comb, before my hair dries from all this hot air.'
He shook his head. 'No, you won't do it right. I've seen you comb your hair. You just try to beat the tangles into submission. Turn around, little girl, and no whining. Or we'll just cut off all this hair and leave you with something more manageable.'
It was what her mother used to say when she was younger. She didn't even remember telling him this fact, but he remembered. Crow remembered everything.
She sat on the edge of the bedroll, her back to him. He unplaited her hair, running his fingers through it to loosen it. Only then did he use the comb, and he was as gentle as he had promised. He took his time, curling the ends around his finger, lifting the heavy mass so he could comb the wispy ringlets at the nape. The rain was even heavier now, and it was hard to imagine the room could get much darker.
'You ought to wear your hair up,' Crow said, twisting it into a pile on top of her head.
'My friend Jackie showed me how to put it up so I don't look like a spinster in a bun. But I don't do it so well.'
'Jackie?'
'A new friend. She has a little girl, Laylah, whom you'd love.'
'I love you,' he said very casually. 'I stopped for a while, but then I started again.'
Her back was to him, which made it easier to tell the truth, but it didn't make it easier to know what the truth was. She couldn't say she had stopped and started again, because she wasn't sure she had really loved him the first time around. She couldn't say she would love him forever and ever-she had just admitted she didn't know if she'd ever get that right. But Crow wasn't asking for assurances about the past or the future, she realized. He would settle for now.
'I love you, too.'
He put down the comb, burying his face in her hair and her neck, his arms reaching around her waist. He held her tight, like an exhausted swimmer coming to a branch or a boulder after a long, long time in turbulent waters. Yet he was in no hurry, this was distinctly different from the other night, just a week ago. He had still been angry with her then, she realized, his passion had been a mask for his fury. Crow held her, and she allowed herself to be held, her senses expanding. She was aware of the rain, of the darkness, of the grain in the floorboards beneath them, of the watery shadows on the walls. Finally she broke his hold on her, but only so she could peel the wet T-shirt away from her body and turn to face him.
She was home.
When morning came, it was as Mrs. Nguyen and Channel 5's Chris Marrou had prophesied-cooler, crisper, the kind of fall day that Tess would have taken for granted back in Baltimore. But she was beyond taking anything for granted now.
Blinking heavy eyes, she glanced around the house. A shower was running somewhere, and the dryer was thumping softly. Thoughtful Crow must have washed her clothes. His nurturing, once mildly oppressive, now seemed sexy. She wondered if they had time for him to nurture her a little more before they drove to town. She glanced at her Swiss Army watch, the only thing she had managed to keep on through the long night. Nine A.M. The parade started at one but they needed to leave soon if they were going to intercept Emmie.
Strange-the only thing in the dryer was a small load of dishtowels. Maybe he had hung her clothes up outside, under the now-brilliant skies. But she couldn't see anything from the windows. She knocked on the bathroom door, then pushed it open without waiting for a reply. Steam rolled out, as if the shower had been running for a very long time.
It had, and if Crow had ever been in it, he wasn't now.
She looked for her shoes, but they were missing, too. Naked and barefoot, she ran from the house, down the flagstone path to where her car had been. Gone as well, not that this surprised her. The shower and the dryer- those had probably been turned on in hopes of muffling the noise of an engine starting.
Back in the house, she saw what she hadn't seen before-her datebook open on the kitchen table, a message scrawled on today's date, November 2.
'I started this on my own, and I need to finish it on my own. Love, C. (Nothing here to eat but canned pork and beans, I'm afraid.)'
Damn chivalry. It wasn't enough for Crow to rescue Emmie, he had to spare Tess as well, leaving her with nothing but canned pork and beans and a blanket. But what could she do, naked, shoeless, and at least twenty miles out of San Antonio? If it was so important to him to play Sir Galahad alone, then so be it. She wandered back into the main room and, for want of anything better to do, leafed through Emmie's scrapbook.
Funny how one's perceptions change. Now that she knew the story, she saw the photos differently. Clay was trying to hide his emotions, while Emmie didn't care if the world knew what she felt. Neither one of them had
