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Date Posted: 10:21:33 04/06/03 Sun
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Ghosts - ch.18 & 19
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: Ghosts - ch.17" on 07:45:10 04/05/03 Sat

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Ivy returned to her hotel suite one very unhappy woman - her hopes of spending the night with Peter totally dashed. Angrily, she removed her shoes, flinging them one after the other across the room. They were followed, in quick succession, by her purse, wrap, earrings, and other various nearby objects not firmly tied down.

"Men!" she shrieked, reaching for the table lamp.

The sudden ringing of Ivy's telephone fortuitously kept the room's décor intact.

"Hello…" she answered, exasperated.

Hearing the voice on the other end of the line did nothing to improve Ivy's demeanor. "Where are you?" she demanded at once.

"No, things are NOT going well…" Ivy gritted her teeth and began tapping her fingernails on the desk.

"No, I'm not mad at you," she lied sweetly.

"Take care of it tomorrow, though, alright?" she insisted, still with charm.

"He's arranging for her release on bail," Ivy informed her caller.

"He won't be a problem…." she replied, confidently.

"Love you, too," she cooed, ending the conversation.

Contentedly, Ivy tapped the receiver with her fingertips. On her face was a smile, which slowly grew into a chuckle, and then finally blossomed into a hearty laugh.

"Idiot…"

^^^^^^^^

"Just follow I-15 to State Route 40 and you'll be there by sun-up," the rental agent promised cheerfully.

Peter accepted the keys to his newly-rented motorcycle with precious little conversation. All he wanted was to leave Las Vegas for a while, escape all the craziness, clear his head and think.

Nevada's first state park, The Valley of Fire, fit the bill exactly. Just a few hours' drive from Las Vegas, Peter had heard about the park's spectacular rock formations but had never had the chance to see them in person.

A contemplative sunrise amidst the tranquil canyons and wildflowers was just what the doctor ordered, he told himself as he headed onto the highway.

By the time Peter turned onto State Route 40, the roads were virtually deserted. He made good time, speeding toward the park, and was there to greet the sunrise.

Peter parked his motorcycle in a secluded clearing and settled his backpack upon his shoulders. He had on jeans, a black t-shirt, and a long-sleeved washed denim shirt he was wearing as a jacket. Carefully, he avoided the visitor's center and the lone park ranger on duty, and headed for the nearest trail, toward Fire Canyon.

As the sun rose, the sandstone rocks took on new shapes and forms, colored in brilliant oranges and reds. Peter marveled at the Indian rock writings found on the valley walls. Marigolds, indigobush and desert mallow lined the trails. For the first time since he'd arrived in Nevada, Peter felt at peace.

Covering his head with the baseball cap he'd stuffed in his back pocket, Peter leaned back against a cool rock and closed his eyes, enjoying the sunlight on his face.

His eyelids drooped for only a second.

"Fall asleep out here and you might not wake up," Sully sat crossed legged on the rock next to Peter.

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin. "Sully!"

"Sophie didn't tell ya Michaela and I was visitin'?" he asked, taking note of Peter's surprise.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot," Sully smirked. "You two ain't talkin.'"

"Wanna tell me about it?" he suggested.

"It's…complicated," Peter grimaced, not knowing where to begin.

"Lemme see if I got it." Sully offered to speed things up. "Yer keepin' secrets from Sophie, seein' another woman, and ya ran off in the middle of the night rather than face this all like a man."

"Gee, you've been a big help," Peter deadpanned. "Thanks so much for coming…"

Sully took his grandson's ridicule in stride. "So, none of it's true?" he asked, pointedly.

"Okay, I have ONE secret," Peter shouted, waving a single index finger.

"And I drove out here for some peace and quiet," he continued sarcastically, "which, apparently, was a big waste of time!"

"And the other woman?" Sully delved, figuring he might as well be the sounding board for all of Peter's anger and frustration.

"That was nothing!" Peter railed. "Besides, she kissed me!"

Sully winced and shook his head, experiencing an almost visceral reaction to Peter's words.

"Son," Sully's tone resonated with the voice of experience, as he placed a comforting arm around Peter's shoulder. "That excuse never works."

"But, Sophie and I agreed…" Peter refused to accept all the blame.

"You agreed to court these folks t'clear Charity's name," Sully finished for him.

"But ya can't expect Sophie t'trust ya, if you aren't bein' honest with her," he chastised.

Peter lowered his head, knowing in his heart that Sully was right.

"Sully?" Peter asked softly. "Have you ever done something that you were so ashamed of that you didn't think Michaela could ever understand?"

"Uh-huh," Sully nodded quietly.

"Something that you tried to forget you ever did?" Peter pressed further.

"Uh-huh," Sully nodded again.

"Something that made you feel unworthy of Michaela's love?" Peter insisted, surprised by Sully's continued affirmative response.

"Peter, the answer's 'yes,'" Sully said simply.

Shocked, Peter waited silently for Sully to continue.

Sully took a deep breath, willing to relive that time only for his grandson's sake. "I was a sniper in the war," he replied solemnly. "And a couple o' crooked politicians set me up t'kill a man whose only crime was makin' a livin' fer his family."

"I couldn't face what I'd done," Sully confessed. "So, I deserted."

"I was court-martialed and sentenced to death... This was back when Michaela and me were still engaged," he clarified for Peter's benefit.

"We'd gone t'Washington, t'testify at the Indian hearin's," Sully finished, the events still fresh in his mind.

"How'd she take it?" Peter was fully absorbed in Sully's story.

"I didn't want her t'have anything t'do with me," Sully related. "I told her t'take the kids, home to Colorado, and forget she ever met me."

"But, she didn't listen," Peter surmised, knowing Michaela's reputation.

Sully shook his head, preferring, even now, not to think of it. "They had me behind bars, barefoot, and in shackles...grimy clothes and a day-old beard."

"And she marched through that jailhouse door like hellfire, in one o' her fanciest dresses," Sully smiled, picturing his Michaela.

"She walked through dirt and rats, filth and scum. Guards leerin' at her…prisoners pawin' at her," Sully's anger grew all over again.

"She came there just t'see me," he recalled, with tears in his eyes. "And I hated myself for it."

Peter listened, stunned, assimilating all that Sully had told him - all that Michaela had done; and, in his heart, he knew: Sophie would do exactly the same.

"What happened?" Peter asked, needing to hear the story's outcome.

Sully choked back his emotions and smiled just a bit. "She broke me outta prison," he grinned. "And we worked together, findin' clues, clearin' my name."

"Worked together, huh?" Peter scowled and sighed at Sully's none-too-subtle implication.

Sully's stories were a lot like Frank's. Both men knew how to couch their advice and capture Peter's attention with their reminiscences, allowing him to discover any similarity to his own problems, purely on his own. It was a crafty, sometimes aggravating, potentially infuriating, educational technique, which Peter had shamelessly filched - with excellent results - for use on his own students. Finding himself the student once again left Peter with a guilty, if renewed, appreciation for the two extraordinary men who had been his teachers, his father figures, and above all, his friends.

"Y'know…teamwork does have its benefits," Sully winked mischievously, his eyes sparkling bright.

"Happy to see you, was she?" Peter chuckled, his spirits considerably lightened.

"We were hidin' out in Shantytown," Sully recalled with a smile. "This freeman named, Marcus, had gone t'find us some cutters for my handcuffs."

"It was the first time Michaela and me'd had a chance t'be alone since she broke me out…"

^^^^

"Michaela, ya shouldn'ta risked…" Sully's worries were stopped by Michaela's warm, eager lips on his.

"Ssshh…" she soothed him, softly brushing his hair away from his forehead. "Sully, I'd risk anything…do anything…" her fingers traveled to the nape of his neck and she pressed her body against him with surprising abandon.

"Michaela…" Sully moaned, unaccustomed to such an open display of affection from his usually modest fiancee.

"I love you so much," she breathed, capturing his mouth more passionately.

As the kiss deepened, Sully's attempts to embrace Michaela were thwarted by his chains, and he lost his balance a little, shifting them both backwards, toward the wall of the shed.

Michaela giggled and Sully kept his laugh low as they shared the relaxed joy of just being together. "Sshhh, we gotta be quiet," he smiled, able to maneuver his hands to caress her face. "I love you so much, Michaela."

The smouldering look in Sully's eyes and the feel of his body beneath hers left little doubt in Michaela's mind as to the depths of Sully's desire.

She pulled back a bit, blushing. "I'm sorry, Sully," she stammered shyly. "I didn't mean to…"

"Take advantage o' me?" he joked, quickly attempting to put her at ease.

Michaela's embarrassment calmed. "I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you," she sighed, her hand over his heart.

The adoration Sully saw shining in Michaela's eyes left him breathless. "You ain't ever gonna lose me, Michaela. That's a promise," he vowed.

^^^^^^^^

Sully was still smiling - recalling their chagrin as Marcus returned with the cutters a minute later - when it became obvious that Peter had become lost in his own thoughts.

"Do you ever ask yourself…" Peter began hesitantly.

"What does she see in me?" Sully finished Peter's sentence, easily reading his mind.

"Every day o' my life," he nodded in simple gratitude.

"There's so much in my past I'm not proud of," Peter gulped.

"If ya ask me, yer all doin' too much lookin' back," Sully observed critically. "Charity and Lila, Sophie and Chloe, you and yer mistakes…"

Sully issued the same cautionary warning to Peter that he had given to Michaela so many years ago. "You ain't ever gonna get back what ya lost, but ya might lose what ya got now."

"I can't lose Sophie…" Peter felt a shiver at the thought. "I can't."

"Then talk t'her," Sully advised.

"And she'll understand?" Peter still wasn't one hundred percent sure.

Sully shrugged, uncertain. "No way a' knowin'. But like I told Brian once - and I 'spect it holds true fer most women. When you don't talk to 'em, it's worse than anything you could ever say."

"Thanks," Peter shook Sully's hand warmly.

"Don't mention it," Sully grinned, finally noticing the beauty of the area around him.

Happily, Sully took in the magnificent scenery and wide-opened spaces. "This's a real pretty place," he commented, pleased to see the land had been preserved for generations. "Reminds me o' the Red Rocks, back home."

"Michaela and me had some special times there," he sighed, his voice trailing off into the past.

Peter chuckled, indulging Sully's reverie. "That good, huh?" he winked, preparing to leave.

"Good luck," Sully wished his grandson well. "Michaela and me'll be around if ya need us."

"Aren't you coming?" Peter felt a bit awkward leaving Sully there alone in the valley.

"Nah, you go on," Sully reassured him. "Might as well see the place," he said to himself as he meandered along.

Waving goodbye to Peter, Sully sauntered aimlessly, until he reached the plaque up ahead.

"Rainbow Vista," it read descriptively.

"Hmmm," Sully smiled to himself. "Wonder if they got a waterfall?"

^^^^^^

CHAPTER NINETEEN Tuesday

In the quiet, curtained, retreat that was Gus' private penthouse suite - his oasis of calm amidst the frenetic pace of casino life - he lay fast asleep.

Heavy drapes stood sentinel at the floor-to-ceiling windows, banishing any sparkle of sunlight from his eyes, while the finest silk sheets from India softly covered his naked body. A half-finished bottle of whiskey from his personal stock rested atop his bedside table.

It was 6am, an hour Gus never saw if he could help it. Although the casino was open twenty-four hours a day, Gus usually found it safe to retire about 4am and sleep until noon. By noon, the senior citizens bus tours descended upon the place like ants on a tuna fish sandwich and a new day would dawn.

The suite was tastefully decorated, with a few personal possessions, here and there. But, for the most part, Gus Leighton was a man who preferred to travel light - except, of course, for his art collection. A variety of beautiful paintings and delicate sculptures filled the room. Gus had an amazing eye for art and enjoyed reaping the benefits that a collection like his provided. Beautiful paintings were inevitably admired by beautiful women…most of whom, in turn, were inevitably admired themselves…by Gus…in his bed.

That Gus was alone under those silk sheets had been the reason for the whiskey. Gus didn't enjoy waiting for his women and rarely bothered. Sophie Becker was an exception. There was something about her - something refreshingly different from all the other women Gus usually dated. There was a genuineness, an honesty, in Sophie, which Gus hadn't seen for so long, he hardly remembered it even existed.

The chance to have someone like that in his life was a jackpot higher than any casino could ever pay out. At least he'd felt that way last night when he'd given his final instructions to the front desk clerk…

Gus' telephone rang sharply, cutting through his carefully constructed cocoon, and piercing his hangover with a headache straight from Hell.

"Is the hotel burning down?" Gus grumbled into the phone.

"Ah, no Sir…" the desk clerk replied, frightened.

"Then, you're fired!" Gus barked, only hurting his head further.

"But, Sir, you asked me to phone you if Ms. Becker went out," the clerk rushed to explain.

Gus rolled over, closer to the phone, and asked very slowly and softly so as not to disturb his head, "What time is it?"

"Six a.m., Sir," the clerk answered, lowering his voice to match Gus'.

Two hours ago, when Gus had ordered the desk clerk to keep an eye out for Sophie, he'd figured she'd sleep until at least eight or nine. Nobody in their right minds got up at 6am, on vacation, did they? Especially overwrought women who needed to get away. Women like that slept late, they ordered room service…they went for a makeover. They did not get up at 6am!

With great difficulty, Gus pulled himself up to a sitting position and tried to focus. "She say where she was going?"

The clerk relaxed slightly and answered cheerfully, "Yes, Sir, she's going for a run."

"A run?" Gus' brain still wasn't functioning.

"Yes, Sir," the clerk repeated, happy to be of service. "A run…as in exercise…"

"Exercise…" Gus mumbled, depressed. He was wide-awake now and, already, he could tell - it was not going to be a good day.

"Is it light out?" Gus was almost hoping it wasn't.

"Oh, yes, Sir, it's a beautiful day outside, nice cool morning, the perfect time for a workout," the clerk chattered breezily.

"I get the picture," Gus groaned. "What trail did she take?"

"I suggested the Tequila Trail, Sir," the clerk replied. "The wildflowers are so lovely along that path…"

"Yeah, yeah," Gus rolled his eyes, opened the drawer of his nightstand, stuffed a couple of aspirin in his mouth and washed them down with the leftover whiskey by his side.

"Now, here's what I want you to do…"

^^^^^^^

Gus Leighton was in excellent physical shape. Tall, slender…he'd been blessed with an overactive metabolism and a high tolerance for alcohol. Whatever exercise he received was the result of a lifetime of fistfights and barroom brawls. And, while he might occasionally ride a horse or swim a couple of laps in the hotel pool, he most definitely did not, "run."

Sophie was running the Tequila Trail - ten miles of varying terrain that Gus wouldn't attempt under the best of circumstances.

Hungover and half-blinded by the morning sunshine, he'd hitched a ride on one of the hotel's complimentary golfcarts, hoping his plan would work.

"Leave me off here," he instructed the driver.

"Here, Sir?" The golfcart was on the Prickly Pear Path, fast approaching Lovers' Lookout.

"Here." Gus insisted, climbing off.

From that vantage point, the Tequila Trail was clearly visible. Gus pulled a pair of binoculars from the cart and spotted Sophie easily. In less than a mile down the path, the two courses would intersect. Gus would have his chance.

He was wearing a white t-shirt, nylon jogging pants, and running shoes. Amazingly, he looked almost athletic.

"Spritz me!" Gus ordered, closing his eyes and standing straight and tall.

Choosing to keep his job, the golf cart driver did as he was asked. He was only covering for his sick cousin, anyway.

Silently, the hapless employee reached into the storage bin and lifted a small water bottle, aiming it at Gus' face. Usually, it was the wealthy but wilted ladies who lunched by the pool who required such attention. This morning, though, Gus was in need of a just a little bit more.

"Now the shirt," Gus nodded, his face and hair dripping with what he hoped would pass for fake sweat.

"How do I look?" he asked, stretching a few muscles, preparing for his big run.

The driver struggled for the perfect compliment. "Olympian…" he beamed, brightly.

Gus raised an eyebrow, secretly admiring the young man's style.

"What's your name?" Gus took the time to ask.

"Reggie, Sir, Reggie Du Bois," the driver replied, "I'm only temporary."

"Well, Reggie," Gus smirked. "You're doing a good job. Now, go back the way you came," he directed him. "Make sure everything's ready for us. Miguel knows what to do."

"Yes, Sir," the driver grinned, turning the cart around quickly. His cousin had told him that one of the best perks about working at the Sahara Sands was living in the impulsive and unpredictable world of Gus Leighton.

His cousin was right…

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Gus managed to run the final mile of the Prickly Pear Path, reaching the Tequila Trail minutes ahead of Sophie. Craftily, he set the stage. There, on his left, was the perfect boulder. Propping his foot against it, Gus began a methodic stretch of his hamstrings and waited quite patiently for Sophie to "happen" by.

"Gus?" Sophie slowed and began jogging in place. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Sophie was wearing black nylon running pants and a gray cotton sports bra. She glowed with authentic, hard-earned sweat, and her face shone with a natural blush. Gus was totally taken aback by her beauty.

Sophie was taken aback, too…more by Gus' presence than his appearance - although his straining biceps did catch her eye. But, it was daylight now; and, the hotel, and a few other early-morning runners were all in plain view. Simply because she hadn't pegged Gus Leighton as an exercise kind of guy didn't mean that he shouldn't enjoy the benefits of owning such a state-of-the-art facility, along with his guests. Did it?

Still, considering the fact that Sophie didn't even know the whereabouts of her own husband right now, caution in all close encounters of the male kind might turn out to be the safest exercise of all…

"I had a free schedule this morning," Gus smiled, hands on hips, appearing out of breathe.

"This is a beautiful trail," Sophie complimented, stopping to admire the landscape.

"Run it every chance I get," Gus lied as convincingly as possible. "Hamstrings tighten up on me sometimes, though."

Sophie considered her options. Even if Gus was lying, she needed to pump him for information about the painting. Now was as good of a time as any. Why not offer a little friendly help?

"You could finish your run with me, if I won't slow you down," she suggested humbly.

Gus' smile was genuine now. "I'd like that," he nodded. "Thanks."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

And so they continued on, with Gus studiously remembering to stop and massage his hamstrings whenever Sophie would ask how he was feeling. Within minutes, they had successfully completed the trail and collapsed cheerfully into two nearby table seats at the informal breakfast buffet surrounding the pool patio.

"Shouldn't we change first?" Sophie wondered, though the atmosphere was obviously casual.

"You really think they'd throw me out?" Gus joked, gallantly holding a chair for her.

The light morning breeze cooled their skin and the restaurant's fluttering yellow and white umbrellas shielded the sun from their eyes. Sophie sank back into her chair and sighed. The debacle of last night began to recede from her mind and she found hope in the start of a new day.

"Must be nice living here," she observed truthfully, feeling safe enough to pursue her investigation.

"It has its benefits…" Gus motioned for a waitress to bring orange juice and coffee as he surveyed the fruits of his success.

"Do you have family nearby?" Sophie delved. "Wife? Children?"

"Just me and my hotel." Gus chuckled.

"And your artwork…" Sophie gambled, raising the stakes. "Everywhere I look, there are so many fantastic pieces."

"Glad you like them," Gus preened.

"That woman last night…Ivy." Sophie tried not to choke on the name. "She mentioned you just bought another painting."

Sophie took a casual sip of her orange juice and did her best to feign only polite interest.

If Gus was irked, or offended, or suspicious even, he did nothing to let on. "A sketch, dating back to the 1870's, artist unknown," he detailed briefly.

Then, Gus shook his head and his mouth creased into a tiny smirk. "Sometimes I just don't know when to quit."

Intrigued, Sophie pressed further. "Problems?" she asked, lightly.

"Only the usual," Gus explained with a sigh. "Everybody wants what I have," he shrugged innocently. "Lucky me…"

"I'm sorry," Sophie sympathized.

"Don't be," Gus assured her. "Here in Vegas, you learn to play the hand you're dealt."

"Everybody pays for their sins, eventually," he noted cryptically.

Sophie was more than intrigued now. She was downright fascinated. Someone wanted what Gus had. Okay. That someone could be Charity, Sophie supposed. But, what if it wasn't?

And, just what "hand" had Gus been dealt? Sophie was dying to know.

From across the table, she eyed Gus intently. He had the look of a seasoned warrior, one who'd been called back into a final battle. Was it the success of the Sahara Sands Gus was fighting for? Or was it the painting? Or perhaps, something else?

"So, what's your sin, Gus?" Sophie knew better than to bait him, but Sophie being Sophie, she did it anyway.

Gus leaned forward with a purposeful smile. Instantly, Sophie felt her heart begin to pound. Was Gus about to kiss her? Suddenly, Peter's proclamations of innocence rang frighteningly true.

Sophie held her breath as Gus moved closer, toward her ear. And, when he answered her, his voice was soft and his breath was hot…like fire against her skin.

"Beautiful women…" he whispered slyly, aware that Sophie's natural blush had now intensified from her cheeks, to her neck, and down to her chest.

Slowly, Gus pulled back to admire the view, a very satisfied grin on his face.

Then, without another word, he ambled nonchalantly over to the breakfast buffet, in search of croissants and jam - for two.

Seducing Sophie Becker was going to be fun…

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