Lord of Lightning Page 11

  “Lise,” Julie persisted, obviously perplexed, “let’s give Stephen a call.”

  “No. Absolutely not!” Lise caught herself. The kids were staring at her like she’d grown horns. “Well fix it somehow,” she said. “We will get this heap running before the science fair, if I have to tie a string to it and drag it behind me.”

  The class was silent, including Julie.

  Miss Anderson was perrrturbed about something.

  Hours later, all by herself in the empty classroom, Lise contemplated her mechanical nemesis—the little train that couldn’t—and wanted to cry. It wasn’t a question of finding someone to help at this point. There probably wasn’t anyone in Shady Tree who’d ever heard of magnetic levitation, much less understood the dynamics behind it. She and her kids were on their own with a high-tech white elephant. It was too late to start another project, and without the train, they were sunk.

  “Miss Anderson?”

  Lise turned to see Danny Baxter in the doorway. He had a hand propped against the door frame, and he was breathing hard.

  “Something’s wrong with my sister,” he said. “I think she’s sick or something. Could you come over to the house?”

  Lise felt a jolt of alarm. She’d been so distracted, she hadn’t realized that Em Baxter hadn’t come to class that day.

  Lise wasn’t surprised by the shabbiness of the Baxter place as they pulled up in front of the house. She knew Danny and Em’s mother had been struggling to make ends meet since the divorce. Danny had told her on the drive over that he and Em were alone much of the time since his mother had taken a second job in the evenings. “Sometimes I cook dinner,” he’d said proudly.

  The urgency Lise had felt throughout the drive increased as they entered the house.

  “This way,” Danny said, leading Lise down a narrow hallway to a bedroom at the back of the house. A set of bunk beds and a fiberboard dresser were the room’s only furniture. It took Lise a moment to determine that Em was the lump under the blanket on the bottom bunk.

  Lise knelt beside the bed, and pulled back the cover.

  “Em?” she said softly, soothing the child’s brow. Her pale face was flushed with color, but it was the unhealthy stain of a fever. Lise’s first impulse was to call a doctor immediately, but she would need to know Em’s symptoms.

  Em’s eyes drooped open and her lips pursed slightly. A smile, Lise thought. A wan smile, but nevertheless, it was one of the few times Lise had seen her do such a thing. She felt immediate and almost irrational relief.

  The little girl had always been special to Lise. Perhaps it was because her own stable, predictable world was unraveling at the seams. Even the quiet, bucolic nature of Shady Tree seemed to have been altered in some way she couldn’t define. And yet this somber child was inviolate in Lise’s mind. Em Baxter symbolized something gentle and vulnerable Lise felt the need to protect at any cost.

  “Tell me how you feel, Em. Where does it hurt?”

  “My stomach,” she said.

  Danny fidgeted next to Lise, fairly bursting to be heard. “She got sick over at the park when we were playing,” he said. “She upchucked and everything!”

  As Lise probed Danny for more information she felt Em’s forehead again. The fever didn’t seem to be dangerously high, and with luck, it was just a bout of the flu, but Lise didn’t want to take chances. She was going to notify Danny’s mother at work and then call a doctor. The child would have to be watched to be sure it wasn’t something serious.

  An hour later Lise had Em propped up with pillows and sipping some ginger ale to help settle her stomach. The doctor had assured Lise over the phone that there was a new strain of twenty-four-hour flu going around, and that with some bed rest Em would be fine.

  “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.” Lise tapped the reddened tip of Em’s nose and laughed. “That’s what the doctor said, so I guess you’re going to be okay. How are you feeling now?”

  After a moment’s contemplation, Em quietly pronounced herself, “Better.”

  She was a remarkable child, Lise thought. Such a wise little owl for five years old. Lise’s throat tightened as she busied herself straightening the bed covers. She found Em’s Tiny Tears doll tangled in the blanket and settled it on the pillow next to Em. “You have to get better right away,” she said. “Do you know why?”

  Em looked thoughtful. “So that I can play with my doll?”

  Lise laughed. “That too. But I was thinking about the science fair. We’re going on a bus all the way to Los Angeles. It’s going to be a wonderful trip, and I want you to come along.”

  “Los Angeles?” Her eyes widened a little and she reached for the threadbare doll. “Is that like Disneyland?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have described it exactly that way, but yes, it’s a pretty terrific place.”

  “Are we going to set up the magnet train and run it for everybody?”

  I hope so. Lise nodded.

  “Then I’d like to go.”

  Suddenly Lise had a knot the size of Texas in her stomach. She’d made a commitment to a five-year-old child, that was all. Why did it feel like she’d just promised to part the Red Sea?

  Nine

  STEPHEN SENSED THE presence of someone in the house even before he heard the soft click of a metal latch bolt. The sound had come from the direction of the living room, and the cabin’s front door. He went still, listening intently, his hands poised on the sensor assembly of the device he was calibrating. A floorboard groaned under the intruder’s weight, and then the cabin went silent again.

  Moving quickly and quietly, Stephen positioned himself against the wall next to the door frame and waited for the door to open. He had an idea who the intruder was. He’d gone into town for supplies that morning, and the stares he attracted weren’t just curious, they were hostile. He’d come out of the store to find Buck Thompson leaning against the Land-Rover, a dangerous smirk on his face. That was Buck’s first mistake. His second was ignoring Stephen’s suggestion that he move.

  As a shuffle of footsteps neared, Stephen crouched to pick up a piece of metal tubing. The partially closed door crept open, and a shadow streamed across the floor. Still in a crouch, Stephen swung out the tubing. A muffled scream sounded. The intruder pitched forward in a wild flurry of motion, flailing the air. Only as Stephen collared the prone form and yanked him to his feet did he realize he was dealing with a young boy.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m Danny Baxter.” The boy’s face pinched into a grimace, and his pupils shrank with terror. “I wasn’t going to steal anything—honest!”

  “What are you doing here?” Stephen said, releasing him. He felt a twist of guilt at having roughed up the boy, but given the sensitive nature of his work, he would have tackled anyone coming through that door.

  “I—I came to get you,” Danny said, urgency in every word. “We need you down at the school.”

  Adrenaline jolted through Stephen. “Is something wrong? Is it Lise?”

  “No—yeah! Everything’s wrong! The maglev train won’t run and the science fair’s next week and you’re the only one who can fix it!”

  “The maglev train? That’s what you came all the way out here for?” Stephen noticed the boy’s grimy exhaustion for the first time, and realized he’d probably ridden his bike the entire distance, over twenty miles and most of it uphill. “Does Miss Anderson know you came out here?”

  “No, it was my idea. She’s been upset the last coupla days. I think she’s worried about the train.”

  Danny’s concern was so palpable that Stephen felt himself wavering. He hadn’t planned on ever getting within touching distance of Lise Anderson again, but he was carrying a load of guilt about the way he’d left her. Maybe this was his opportunity to repair some of the damage he’d done. Beyond that, how could he justify letting down an entire fifth grade class because he couldn’t keep his hands off their ravishing teacher?

  The class w
as in a state of incipient pandemonium by the time Stephen and Danny arrived. Totally unnoticed, Stephen took in the carnival atmosphere for severed moments. The kids were busily at work on various parts of the railroad pike, and Lise was completely preoccupied with her own project. She didn’t even respond when Danny knelt and tapped her on the shoulder.

  Stephen watched her work with awe and some amusement. He’d never seen her in blue jeans before. Beyond that she was on all fours and bent forward on her elbows, investigating the mysteries of a switching mechanism. Several lengths of plastic cording were draped around her neck, and there were instruction sheets scattered all around her.

  “Can I help?” Stephen asked.

  She froze in place. Moving only her head, she turned to look up at him. It was a moment before she spoke. “Beg your pardon?”

  “You look like you’re stuck.”

  If Lise hadn’t been stuck before, she was then. The last person in the world she’d expected to see standing in her classroom that afternoon was Stephen Gage. What was he doing there? In addition to the shock buzzing around in her brain, there was one sensible thought. Get yourself out of this position, Lise. She rolled up on her haunches and fixed him with what she hoped was a quelling stare.

  “Stuck? Whatever made you think that?” she said. “I found a short in the circuit, and I’ve just fixed it.”

  By this time the kids had begun to gather around. Lise smiled at them reassuringly. “The problem’s solved, gang. Let’s get this show on the road. Julie, give it some juice.”

  “Roger,” Julie said, saluting. She threw the switch and jumped back as sparks flew. A puff of smoke rose from the switching mechanism, but the train didn’t move. Not a quiver. The class let out a collective groan of dismay.

  Lise sprang to her feet. It was everything she could do not to pick the damn thing up and chuck it through the window!

  “I’d be glad to help,” Stephen offered.

  “Thank you, but no, Mr. Gage,” she said, walking to the layout table. “We can manage.”

  “No, we can’t!” the students cried.

  Lise stopped midstride and swung around, taking in their anxious expressions. Apparently she had some panic-stricken children on her hands. It hit her then that she’d done very little recently to assuage their fears. In fact, she was probably making things worse with her own anxiety. Yes, she admitted silently, they probably did need Stephen Gage.

  “It seems I’m outvoted.” She nodded to Stephen rather graciously, she thought, under the circumstances. But there was no mistaking the message in her eyes. Why did you leave me standing in the rain in my nightgown, Mr. Gage?

  His expression registered regret and frustration. It also registered something even more revealing—a smoldering spark of sexual heat. Whatever had motivated him to throw her out of his van, it hadn’t stopped him from wanting her. On the heels of that realization, Lise had a startling flash of insight. Burning deep inside Stephen Gage was a need beyond anything she had ever experienced. It was more than sexual, she knew that instinctively. It was something harsh and faintly sad, and that frightened her a little. What frightened her more was the possibility that he might somehow touch as deep a need in her.

  “The train,” Julie prompted.

  “Yes—the train,” Lise agreed.

  An hour later Stephen had the major problems solved. What was more, he’d managed to involve the children in every aspect of the repair work by asking questions and coaxing the answers out of them as they worked on the model.

  He’s good, Lise thought grudgingly.

  “He’s brilliant,” Julie murmured as though she’d read Lise’s mind.

  By the time Lise dismissed the class that afternoon, Abraham Lincoln’s science lab was a much happier place. Julie seemed to want to linger and stare adoringly at Stephen, but Lise discouraged her with a meaningful glance toward the exit.

  “How do you like the new Star Trek series, Mr. Gage?” Julie asked on her way out.

  Stephen pulled a frown. “Star trek?”

  Julie looked so shocked that Lise hurried over to escort her out the door. “Stephen obviously doesn’t follow television, Julie,” she said. “There are people who don’t sit glued to the tube day and night, believe it or not.”

  Lise gave Julie a gentle push into the hallway and turned back to Stephen. The girl’s words echoed back to them. “But not to know Star Trek? You’d have to be from Mars.”

  “Sorry.” Lise met Stephen’s blue eyes, and laughed with mild disbelief. “You really haven’t heard of Star Trek?”

  “The television reception is lousy on Mars.”

  “I’ll bet...”

  As their laughter faded, a pregnant silence crept into the room’s atmosphere. With all the unresolved issues between them, Lise was a little stymied about what to do or say next. She drew her lower lip between her teeth. Small talk seemed impossible under the circumstances. “I was just going to lock up and leave,” she said.

  Moments later they were walking out together, and it was one of the quietest trips of Lise’s life. The tension between them grew as they approached the entrance doors. Under other circumstances Lise would have initiated a conversation, but after all, she was the one who’d been left standing in the rain, not Stephen. And he’d made no attempt to contact her since.

  He stopped her at the bottom of the school’s front entrance steps just as they were about to part company. “Could we talk a moment?” he asked.

  His eyes were so densely blue, they could have been black. As Lise looked up at him she knew again the pain of being abandoned in the rain. Her father had made her feel inept and clumsy for the best part of her childhood, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt as deeply inadequate as that night with Stephen.

  He shook his head as though he could read in her expression what was going through her mind. “Lise ... it wasn’t you.”

  She tried to blink away a quick stinging mist. “How could you have done such a thing?”

  “It was an emergency—the storm, my equipment—”

  He seemed unable, or unwilling, to explain further, but they both knew it wasn’t just the storm that had stopped him that night.

  As Lise’s eyes swept over him her blurred vision created halo effects. Afternoon sunlight fell around them in waves, and for fleeting seconds, a soft white aura enveloped them. His pale hair caught fire. Winter sunshine, Lise thought. She would never again watch it light up the mountains without thinking of him.

  “Miss Anderson—”

  Lise felt a tugging on the back pocket of her jeans. She turned to see Emily Baxter’s stricken face staring up at her.

  “Em! What’s wrong?” Fear stabbed at Lise’s heart. She hadn’t seen the little girl since she’d been to the Baxter house with Danny two days before. Was Em worse? Had something terrible happened?

  She knelt and drew the child to her, scanning her features. “What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Could the spaceman fix Elizabeth?” Em asked.

  That was when Lise noticed the Tiny Tears doll that Em was clutching. One of its arms was hanging by springs and wires. “Is that what’s wrong? Is it your doll?”

  The child nodded, and Lise was almost light-headed with relief. “How about you, Em?” she asked, checking the child’s forehead. “Are you feeling any better?”

  Em nodded gravely. “I had waffles for breakfast.”

  “Waffles? You must be better.” Actually, the child still looked a little peaked, but she was out of bed and playing and those were both good signs, Lise decided. She had talked with the children’s mother and then made arrangements with a neighbor of the Baxter’s to keep an eye on the children after school, so she knew Emily had caring supervision now.

  “Elizabeth hurt herself,” Em said, directing Lise’s attention to the doll’s sprung arm.

  “So I see,” Lise agreed. “And you think the spaceman can fix her?”

  “I know he can.” Her quiet voice
was infused with conviction as she turned her serious gaze upon Stephen and held the doll out. “Here,” she said.

  Stephen accepted the doll with a solemn nod. “It looks as though Elizabeth has dislocated her shoulder,” he said. “Do I have your consent to operate?”

  Emily lifted her head in alarm, and then whispered, “Yes.”

  She watched bravely while he worked, wincing only slightly as he twisted the arm around, made some adjustments to hooks and springs, and then supplied the needed part—a rubber band.

  Lise wasn’t surprised at Stephen’s quick, deft work, but she was intrigued by his occasional glances at Emily. Their eyes would meet for a moment, and Stephen would incline his head slightly, not even a nod. He was reassuring the child, Lise knew, but there was more to it than that. It was as though they understood each other without ever having to say a word.

  When Stephen had the doll repaired, he tested its arm with a quick tug, and held it up for Emily to see. She gave a sigh of relief, the most emotion she’d expressed throughout the entire ordeal. Faith can move mountains, Lise thought.

  “She’s something, isn’t she?” Lise said a moment later, watching the child wander off.

  “She’s a mirror to the world,” he said quietly. “To its hope, its misery.”

  Lise turned to him, struck by the depth of his observation. “Yes,” she said, “I think you’re right ... that’s Em exactly.”

  His profile was dark against the falling sun, and so unexpectedly lonely, Lise felt her heart begin to pound. A question took shape inside her, and though she didn’t fully understand why, she asked it. “Do you have children?”

  “No ... no children.”

  He said it with the weight of a man who had lost things, vital things, perhaps everything. Lise didn’t dare to probe further, but she was shaken by the realization, and by her need to understand what was haunting him.