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his bladder and with a grimace, stepped on the brakes and turned the Dodge back around.
“What are you doing?” she demanded sharply.
“Gotta drain the lizard, hon. I’m quick. You know how quick I am.”
“They’re coming.”
“I know.” He dared to touch her silken hair, comforting her. But she was tense and her blue eyes were shadowed and haunted as they looked up at him.
Rafe drove into the rest stop and parked in the handicap spot closest to the restrooms. The men’s and women’s signs were visible under the yellow light by the doors.
He started to get out and Tasha scrambled after him
. Looking down at her awkward form with love, he observed, “Pretty soon that little bugger’s gonna be here. What are you doing outta the truck?”
“I have to go, too,” she said.
“You’re peeing for two.” He grinned in the darkness, his dark hair flying around his face. He helped her toward the door and made sure the women’s room was unlocked, then whistled as he strode toward the men’s room. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. She loved him. Loved. Him. They’d only made love a couple of times, of course, all under the cover of secrecy because she would be in deep, deep shit if anyone at the house found out. The first time they’d actually gone out to the graveyard and it had been a surprisingly warm May night. They’d made love right on top of one of her dead relatives. It had really made him feel weird, but she’d been so beautiful. White skin, blond hair, a kind of smile that made him want to throw her down and 466
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screw the hell out of her. Brand her as his. And he had, too. God, it had been something. She’d had to clap her hand over his mouth ’cause he’d wanted to howl and scream that he’d claimed her.
They made love the next night, too. This time just under her bedroom window. It had been a little chillier, and they’d had to be quicker. The danger was heightening. He’d come so fast he’d been a little embarrassed but she’d said it was okay. Had to be that way. Only way they could be together. And then the people in the house had gotten stricter on her. He’d had trouble seeing her alone. But she loved him. She told him she loved him over and over again. And he loved her just as much. So, they’d planned to run away and here they were.
Zipping up, Rafe strolled out of the bathroom. She wasn’t out yet. Women never were. He glanced at a small field surrounded by the waving firs and decided to walk over and have a smoke.
Tasha leaned against the side of the stall, feeling cumbersome and fat. Her eyes were closed and she was mumbling encouragement to herself. She had set them on this path and now it was just a matter of timing.
Her head throbbed. Nothing new. She’d had the same trouble since she could remember. Migraines, or something like them. Pregnancy sure hadn’t helped.
She heard the rumble of another vehicle pulling into the rest stop, the noise just barely discernible over the keen of the wind. Her heart clutched. She Nancy Bush
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waited and then footsteps headed into the women’s room, carefully measured treads.
Tasha’s eyes flew open and her lips parted. The saliva dried in her mouth.
The footsteps slapped against the concrete floor, pausing a moment by Tasha’s door. She was glad for the dim illumination; the lightbulbs barely worked at all. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Whoever it was didn’t bother going into another stall. They just turned around and headed back outside without using the facilities. Shaking a little, Tasha carefully slipped her lock and tiptoed toward the outside door. She would be seen under the yellow light if she made a break for the pickup. Yet, she had no choice.
Silently cursing her ungainly shape, she drew a long breath then hurried as best she could into the night and to the passenger door. It was open, but there was no Rafe inside. Sidestepping the door, she slipped around the rear of the pickup. The vehicle three spots over was a dark sedan. Whoever had driven it here was not anywhere to be seen. She thought she heard voices. A snatch on the wind.
“. . . . baby. . . .”
“. . . wasn’t supposed . . .”
“. . . get . . . away . . .”
“. . . . you can’t . . . !”
Tasha moved from the rear of the Dodge, back to the side, keeping the pickup between her and the grassy area where the voices seemed to be coming from. She couldn’t discern who was talking. Wasn’t sure Rafe was even one of them. But they were talking about a baby. They were talking about her. 468
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Minutes passed. Eternities, it seemed.
She finally dared to leave the security of the pickup, but when her feet hit the muddy field grass she slipped and went down on one knee. She glanced around anxiously but there was no one. Nothing but the shrieking wind and rattling limbs and wet slap of water that flew off the branches.
