“That’s like most people.”
“Oh, I ran into Dr. Harrison,” Clara said. “He asked about your headaches.”
“They’re better,” Merissa replied. “I do wish they’d go away, though,” she grumbled as they went into the kitchen. “I just got a refill on my prescription medicine yesterday and stuck it in my bedside table. I don’t know what I’d do without those capsules.”
“At least you have something that works now. Carson said he’s driving over to see Dalton.” She pursed her lips. “Might you like to go with him?” she teased.
Merissa’s face lit up. “Might I? I’ll get my coat!”
She went to the front door. “Carson, can I go, too?” she called.
He threw up a hand and motioned her to the car he was driving.
“I’ll just be a minute!”
She grabbed her coat, kissed her mother and ran out to the car. Carson opened the door for her, smiling at her surprise.
“My mother had excellent manners,” he explained as they drove to the Kirk ranch. “She taught me courtesy.”
“It’s very nice in a man,” she said.
“Works wonders with women,” he quipped.
She stared at him quietly. “Women will be your downfall,” she said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pipe up like that.” She flushed.
“No offense taken,” he replied. He glanced at her. “What do you mean, though?”
“Your past will affect your future,” she repeated what she’d told him once.
“You mean I’m going to meet some innocent little thing who’ll think I’m a rake and avoid me because of it?” He laughed.
It wasn’t really funny, what she’d seen in her vision. But it was perhaps better not to tell him all of it. “Something like that, I’m afraid,” she said instead. However, it was going to be much more serious than he ever realized. He didn’t seem to think of his wild lifestyle as a problem. It would become his worst one.
THEY DROVE UP at the Kirk ranch and Dalton turned from a conversation he was having with one of his men. When Merissa got out of the car, he was smiling from ear to ear as he came to meet her.
“What a nice surprise!” he exclaimed, and hugged her. “I was coming over to see you later,” he teased. “Saved me a trip.”
She smiled. “I have a little problem.”
He looked immediately at Carson.
“Hey,” Carson said indignantly, “I don’t poach.”
Tank looked embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Carson just chuckled. “I need to talk to Rourke.”
“He’s in the house. Go ahead.”
He nodded and left them alone.
“It’s nothing like that,” Merissa told him softly. “Carson is...not what he seems. The other man called me, the one who’s stalking you.”
“What did he say?” Dalton asked at once, concerned.
“He said that if I tell you anything else about him, he’ll know, and my mother will pay for it.” She ground her teeth together. “Then I slipped up and told him there was someone else, someone he thought was dead, who knows much more than you do and who was about to tell people.” Her eyes teared up. “He’ll kill the man, and I don’t even know who it is or how to warn him. Carson said he’d make some phone calls.” She looked up at Tank. “I don’t want someone innocent to die because of me.”
He drew her close and hugged her. “We’ll find out who it is and warn him. Don’t take it so to heart. You might even be wrong, for once,” he teased.
“I don’t think so.”
He lifted his head. “You worry too much.”
She grimaced. “Not so much anymore, I wore out my nerves on you, thinking about that man killing you.”
He touched her mouth with the tips of his fingers. “I’m hard to kill. Honest.”
She managed a smile.
“Come on inside.”
“I can’t stay long,” she said worriedly. “Mama’s by herself. I’m afraid for her...”
Even as she spoke, Carson came down the steps and went toward his car. “I’m going back over to the Bakers. Can you bring Merissa home?” he asked Tank.
Tank grinned. “Of course.”
“Thanks. See you.”
He drove off with a wave.
TANK TOOK MERISSA into the house. The whole family was in the living room, playing with Mallory and Morie’s little boy on the carpet. Even Bolinda, visibly pregnant, was sitting on the floor beside her husband, Cane. They looked absolutely fascinated.
There was a huge, brilliantly decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room, with gaily wrapped presents piled up to the second limb around it. The tree was artificial, Tank had told her, because Morie had allergies that kept them from having a live tree.
“The tree is beautiful,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Morie puts them up on Thanksgiving eve,” he told her. “And they stay up until New Year’s Day.”
“We’re always late with ours. But we usually take them down the day after Christmas.”
“I could come and help you take it down,” he offered with a smile. “I can reach the top to get the star off without a ladder.”
She laughed softly. “We don’t have a star. But that would be nice.”
He grinned from ear to ear. The others, hearing voices, looked over at them.
Merissa glanced up at Tank worriedly.
“It’s all right,” he said softly, putting an arm around her. He walked her closer to the sofa.
Four people and a baby looked at her.
She flushed and moved closer to Tank.
His arm tightened.
“Have a seat and an ugly, nonbiodegradable but functional highly colored plastic baby toy, and join in the fun,” Mallory invited with a grin, handing her a rattle.
It broke the ice. Merissa burst out laughing as she took the toy from him.
“Sit down,” Morie invited with a smile. “We don’t bite, honest.”
“And nobody’s going to make sarcastic remarks,” Bolinda added gently.
Merissa sat down, Tank dropping to the couch beside her. “You were always kind to me in school, when a lot of people weren’t,” she said to Bolinda. “I had to drop out and be homeschooled eventually because I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Bolinda reached up and patted her arm. “Different is not bad. You have a real gift. We’re all grateful that you were able to warn Tank in time to save his life.”
“Amen to that,” Mallory agreed, and Cane nodded. “We’re sort of used to him. Even if I can play the piano better than he can,” he added dryly.
“Challenge. Challenge!” Cane piped in.
“Yeah. You think you’re better than me, you can prove it,” Mallory said haughtily.
Tank flexed his fingers and grinned at Merissa, who was laughing. “Okay.”
He went to the piano. “Requests?” he called out.
“Anything except Rach Three,” Mallory said sourly, alluding to the almost impossible-to-play Rachmaninoff 3 composition by the great Russian composer.
