Behind the Smile

48

When Ridge appeared at her door Tuesday evening, her first impulse had been to shut it in his face. But something about the way he looked stopped her. He immediately asked for a stiff drink. She fixed it for him, and he sat down on the couch draining the glass. He asked for another.

"You're not drinking," Ridge said to Graylon as she handed him a refill.

"No, I. . ." she hesitated.

It was obviously not the time for heart-to-heart discussions. His behavior had totally bewildered her. There had been no contact between them since he'd stormed out that morning. It was obvious that he was avoiding her.

Hurt turned to anger. She was a woman on the rebound when she'd moved back to the cabin in the cove. She knew Ridge's reputation as the town's leading tomcat, yet she allowed herself to fall for him. What else could she expect? And now she might be pregnant? What in the world had she gotten herself into?

But something told her this was not the time to go into any of that.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked.

He told her about the house fire that had taken two lives, about the girl found at the Landing. Details were sparse. But Graylon could tell that Ridge was shaken.

It wasn't surprising to Graylon that Ridge knew about these latest events, for he always made it a point to know who was doing what to whom and whether "the what" was worth knowing. Everyone trusted and confided in him. He had a natural rapport and an easy charm about him. He was the golden boy of this small community. Having obtained his law degree, he'd promptly passed the bar and set up his practice in the place where he had been born. And most folks around the community brought their legal disputes to him.

She'd asked him once why he'd come back, why he hadn't gone to where the real money was. He was lazy, he told her, and this small burgh suited him just fine.

Here he could work when he felt like it and play when he wanted.

They had made love in his office the rest of the afternoon. She had never thought to pursue those questions again.

He finished his drink.

"I want you to know that if you're pregnant, I'll give the child my name. I can't say I'll make a good father, but at least it won't grow up a bastard."

On one level, Graylon was stunned at his awkward outburst, but on another, she felt as if he'd read her mind.

"You're jumping the gun, Ridge. It's too early to tell yet, and besides, we were unprotected just that once."

"No, I'm not," he said simply. "You're pregnant, and I'm a dead man."

"A dead man? Really, Ridge, don't you think you're overreacting?" Graylon asked.

Ridge glowered but remained silent.

He glanced out the window and without warning raced out the door. The puppy yelped and ran behind the sofa where she barked furiously while peeking out from behind her shelter.

Graylon was too shocked to react at first. At the sound of scuffling, she rushed to the door and looked out. Ridge was furiously pummeling someone in the yard.

She ran out onto the lawn screaming, "Stop it, Ridge! Stop! You're going to kill him! Stop, he's not fighting back!"

Ridge ceased his ferocious attack.

The man lay still at Ridge's feet. Ridge bent over and put his hands on his knees. His chest was heaving, and his lungs were gulping air. Gradually, his hard breathing slowed, and his body began to recover from the exertion of the fight.

Graylon saw that Ridge's hair was matted to his forehead, and sweat was pouring down his face. His knuckles were skinned and bleeding. When he regained his composure, he reached down and grabbed the man by the shirt collar. Graylon helped Ridge get the beaten man to his feet.

"What came over you? I've never seen you like that," she asked Ridge.

"This stupid bastard was looking in your window. I'll teach this perverted peeping Tom to get his voyeuristic jollies somewhere else! You hear me, Luke? I'll beat the living shit out of you if I ever catch you here again, you freak!"

"Luke? Why, it can't be."

"Yes, it is. It's Luke. The village idiot." Ridge answered. "Surely, you remember Luke, Graylon. I mean he practically lived here with your grandfather. Remember Rachel, his housekeeper? Luke is her son. You two spent all your time together as kids when you came here on summer vacation."

"Yes, of course," she said looking at the bloodied, swollen face. "Let's get him inside."

They helped Luke into the cabin.

"He needs medical attention, Ridge. I think you've broken his nose."

"I'll break his goddamn neck if I ever catch him around here again," Ridge said. "He's fine. Besides nobody can fix what's broken with him. If you ask me, they should have put him away years ago. But your granddad wouldn't hear of it, and I'll be damned if mine didn't take up Luke's cause when your grandfather passed on, though for the life of me, I can't figure out why."

He continued speaking, "Sam came up to me one day, made this big scene, had me draw up papers that make him Luke's legal guardian. After the Colonel died, Sam bought the old shack Rachel and Luke lived in. He always made sure the taxes were paid. He fed and clothed Luke until he died, too."

She began to clean Luke's wounds.

"Now, the honor has passed to me," Ridge said sarcastically.

He continued talking. The puppy had abandoned her post behind the sofa and curiously sniffed Luke's pants legs.

"Can you believe it, Gray? I am this moron's keeper. Though in name only, I assure you. I pay an old widow a small stipend to cook his meals and send them over to him. She sees that his laundry is done, buys him a new shirt when he needs one, and sweeps out the cobwebs occasionally from his old shack."

Ridge laughed a mirthless laugh, "Look at him, nothing but a dumb prick."

After a second he added, "Maybe smarter than any of us though. He's certainly never hit a lick at anything. Never sullied his hands with one day's honest labor, not old Luke, here."