“Bad day at court?”
“I played Judge Evil Stepmother to Rupert and Oliver.” It had been exhausting but she was feeling rejuvenated now.
“I know some games that don’t involve judging.” His breath was warm against her ear. “And the first move usually begins with a kiss.”
“Oh, let’s play.” She lifted her face on a sigh.
Jason didn’t immediately bring his mouth to hers. Instead he kissed his way down the column of her throat. Traced her collarbone with his tongue from one side to the other. Dropped kisses up the opposite side of her neck. And then finally—when her knees were as weak as her resolve—kissed her.
And kissed her.
And kissed her.
This time when he pulled back, he stepped away. “I’ll be in the kitchen, Judge.” He picked up Stogey. But his gaze was hot and on Darcy. “If you want me.”
She did. And she would have thrown herself at him if only he hadn’t reminded her of what was at stake.
For both of them.
* * *
“What’s taking you so long in there?” Jason called from the kitchen on Saturday morning.
Darcy was rummaging in her top drawer for a clean pair of socks. “I have nothing to wear.”
Nothing appropriate for both a prison visit and shopping at the mall. Nothing that made her feel like a cross between the old Darcy and Judge Darcy Harper. She wasn’t even sure what that would look like but she knew for sure she had nothing in her closet or chest of drawers to fit the bill.
“‘I have nothing to wear.’ The plight of women everywhere.” Jason came to stand in her bedroom doorway.
“The plight of women who purged their wardrobes to avoid making waves.” Darcy wore boy jeans and a conservative blue blouse. She planned to put on Keds if she could find some no-show socks.
She dug deeper, past granny jammies and a pair of Spanx. Her fingers bumped into something solid. She pulled out a small knitted drawstring bag, a gift made by Jason’s mother. From it she withdrew a set of ceramic salt and pepper shakers. The mallards, male and female, were designed to lean on each other the way married couples should.
“What’s that?” Jason came into the small bedroom and to her side, bringing with him the fresh smell of soap and a strong desire to lean on him. He’d brought sunlight and flowers to George’s dark home. And he wanted to bring the steadfast love they’d once shared.
All she had to do was say the word. If only she could find the right one and protect him at the same time.
“These were my mother’s. They were probably stolen.” But there were few things she considered more precious, because they reminded her of those rare days in the kitchen when the Joneses had seemed like a normal, happy family. “Mom’s idea of a meal was slathering mayonnaise on bread, salting it, covering it with shredded cheese and slices of celery, and putting it in the broiler.”
Jason chuckled. “She managed to put some basic food groups together.”
“She wasn’t exactly a broccoli-and-brussels-sprouts mom.” Darcy fitted the shakers together and placed them on top of her dresser. “Sometimes I was so hungry I couldn’t wait for it to cool down. And then it’d burn the roof of my mouth.”
That was the problem with memories of her childhood. They were bitter and sweet. When the Jones family was together, there was laughter but not a lot of much else that was permanently good-feeling.
“You should put those shakers in the kitchen,” Jason said softly, as if there were someone else in the house to hear. “There’s nothing of yours anywhere in this place.”
Darcy half turned to face him, appalled. “I’m not moving in.”
Jason looked around her bedroom, at the open closet and hangers with clothes—hers. At the small dresser that was also filled with clothes—hers. At the endearing old dog who was also now hers. He didn’t have to say anything. Technically she had moved in. It was Darcy who needed to clarify things.
“I meant…I’m not staying. This house…This life…It’s all borrowed. In seven months, I’ll be moving on.” She wasn’t going to be elected in the fall. This was temporary, just like her time here with Jason. She reached deeper into the bag, withdrawing a small, rhinestone-studded heart on a tarnished chain.
“That wasn’t stolen.” Jason’s shoulder brushed against hers. He gently stroked the heart with one finger the way he might have stroked the hair of a newborn.
Throat clogged with emotion, Darcy remembered the day he’d given it to her.
“Your family may come and go,” Jason had told her as he put it around her neck on her fifteenth birthday. “But you’ll always have my heart.”
Years later, Darcy could tell by the way Jason looked at her—love brimming in his eyes—that he remembered that moment as well.
“You still have my heart, Darcy,” Jason said gruffly, sliding his arm around her waist.
She put the necklace and the salt and pepper shakers back in the knitted bag. “You know what George would say. Don’t look back.”
Jason’s brow furrowed. “He might also say, Watch where you’re stepping as you move ahead. We should talk about next steps, Darcy. We still love each other. That’s something to be proud of, not hide.”
“You’re right, but there’s just too much coming at me.” It pained her to admit she wasn’t perfect. “If we go public, the ground I gained recently will be for nothing. Not to mention the potential damage to your career.”
Jason might have argued but for the knock on the front door.
“The gates are locked.” Darcy grabbed her Keds, resolving to go sockless. “Do you suppose it’s Pearl, coming to say she’s dropping the lawsuit or that she’s moving back with Bitsy?”
“One of those things might be true,” Jason allowed. “It might be Pearl.”
Stogey managed to speed-walk to the front of the house ahead of them, crop dusting the air from the exertion. He reached the door just as Pearl opened it.
“I couldn’t go to work without coming inside.” Pearl walked through the living room, circling the round fireplace. “I can feel George here today. Can’t you, Darcy? The way he was before he got sick, before the mess he made last year.”
Said mess sat on the circular brick hearth, pulled on her Keds, and made a noncommittal sound.
“You can hear George?” Jason said in an odd voice. “Can you see him?”
“No. I can’t explain it.” Pearl’s voice rose an octave. “But I feel him. He’s right here. He’s right…” She picked up a tiki ashtray. “He’s right here. We got this on our trip to Hawaii. There’s still cigar ash in here. See?” Instead of holding it out, she clutched the ashtray to her chest and ran to the far corner. “And here. In this eight-track player.” She punched a button and filled the room with the Eagles’ “Take It Easy.”
The old woman was working herself up to the frantic state she’d been in since George had passed. Nothing had changed. Not permanently. It made Darcy wearier than ever.
“Pearl. Honey.” Jason went to the ancient stereo and turned off the music. He gently pried the tiki ashtray from the old woman’s grip and set it aside so he could take her hands. “These are just things George enjoyed. George isn’t here. He’s in your heart. And he always will be. You just have to slow down and listen. And maybe find it in your heart to forgive him.”
They were genuine words. Darcy should have spoken them. A week ago, she had. But that was before Bitsy encouraged Darcy to intervene in Pearl’s grief, before the lawsuit, before the bra, and before the true weight of George’s job had fallen on her shoulders. And most importantly of all, before Jason entered the house and told her she deserved better.
Tension pressed on Darcy’s chest, keeping her silent and still.
Likewise, Pearl didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her eyes darted in Darcy’s direction and then away, as if this visit was an olive branch and it was Darcy’s turn to reach out.
To live up to the standards George had for Judge Harper.
“He’s right, Pearl.” Darcy came to her feet and joined the pair on the far side of the room. “George was never mine, not the way he was yours. He loved you and only you. Maybe if you listen hard enough, you’ll hear him. That big laugh. That bossy voice.”
“I can almost hear him telling Stogey what a good boy he is.” Pearl withdrew her hands from Jason’s. Her gaze fell to the floor as she wiped her nose. “You must think I’m making a fool of myself. An old, love-struck fool, that’s what I am.”
Jason and Darcy hurriedly assured her that wasn’t the case.
But Pearl refused to be soothed or convinced. “He’s gone now.” She marched to the door, opened it, and paused. “George wouldn’t like Jason staying here. It sends the wrong message. You know what a stickler he was about his reputation.” She didn’t look either of them in the eye. But in a blink she was gone.
The slam of the door echoed in the house. Stogey waddled over to the foyer and sniffed the air.
“There’s a lot that needs fixing around here,” Jason said in the same detached tone of voice he’d used when Pearl first came in.
“There’s a time to dog-paddle and a time to float.” Darcy drew upon one of George’s maxims. She made her way to the kitchen to collect her purse. “I’m floating, not fixing. Can you imagine Pearl’s reaction if she knew we were married? Can you imagine the town’s? Because she works at the Saddle Horn, which might just as well be called the Gossip Central.”
Jason was hot on her heels. “You can’t ignore our marriage forever, on paper or otherwise.”
“You’re right.” She faced him, aching because she couldn’t give him what both of them wanted. “It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to me. And for darned sure it’s not right that we love each other but going public would complicate our professional lives. Look at me. I don’t have an agent or a lawyer to guide me through this mess. One misstep and…”
“I have an agent. And a lawyer on retainer somewhere.” Jason came to her, placing his arms loosely around her waist. “You focus on being a judge. Let me take a burden off your shoulders.”
“You make me sound like a princess.” Someone who wasn’t strong enough to rule alone.
“Having spent time recently with Barbara Hadley, the queen bee of Sunshine, I’ll take Princess Darcy any day.” He kissed her nose. “Now come on. It’s your mother’s birthday. Can’t keep her waiting.”
“And I promised Bitsy I’d go shopping with her this afternoon. I hardly know what to buy.”
“Don’t you dare feel guilty about buying anything,” Jason said, holding open the kitchen door. “Including shoes. You always did love your shoes.”
Footwear was the one area in which Darcy felt confident in her fashion choices before her marriage to George. “Would you quit being perfect?”
Without warning, Darcy was swept off her feet and thoroughly kissed. And when Jason was done making her breathless, he didn’t draw away. “I’m not perfect, honey. Every time I kiss you, I hope it chips away at that resolve of yours. Every time our lips connect, I hope you drag me to your bed. Every time I tell you I love you, I hope you’ll say love is all we need. Perfect?” He shook his head. “Not by a long shot.”
Oh my.
Darcy didn’t dare say anything for fear she’d capitulate.
He still hadn’t gotten a verbal reaction to that near-perfect speech a short time later when Darcy sat in Jason’s truck with Stogey in her lap.
“You can’t bring him to prison or the mall,” Jason said without dimples in his cheeks or sparkles in his eyes. Since their hot kiss in the kitchen and her resulting silence, he’d been snappy.
“You know I can’t leave Stogey behind. Think of what he’d do to that door you repaired.” He’d sanded the door and filled the gouges. All it needed was a coat of paint. She rubbed the ruff beneath Stogey’s neck. “Besides, as soon as he passes his test, he’ll legitimately be my emotional support animal.”
Stogey licked the window.
“See?” Darcy gave the dog a back rub. “He likes going on car rides. And he likes you. He’ll keep you company while you wait for me.”
Jason scoffed and started the engine. “The least George could have done was own a manly dog, like a German shepherd or a Doberman.”
“Stogey is manly.”
And to prove it, the little guy belched.
* * *
An hour later, Jason parked in the visitors’ lot at the state penitentiary. “I’ll stay with Stogey while you visit.”
“Thanks.” Darcy wanted to ask her mother some questions without Jason around. She handed the dog over. “How do I look?” She brushed her hair off her shoulders, fishing for a compliment to bolster her spirits.
Jason took his time answering, arranging Stogey in his lap. “I’m in a catch-22 here, honey. If I say you look beautiful, you’ll bite my head off. And if I say you look like a respected judge, you’ll bite my head off.” He went nose to nose with Stogey. “And who knows what you’ll do if I tell you how fantastic your legs look in those jeans.”
That’s my man.
Darcy grinned. “Just because we’re keeping this marriage platonic doesn’t mean you can’t give a girl a compliment.” She hopped out of the truck and marched toward the main entrance, lightened spirits turning heavier the closer she got to her mother. She signed in. Went through a thorough screening. Wondered what her reception would be like. Put money in her mom’s account. Waited in a large room with the rest of the visitors of prisoners in good standing until her mother was escorted in.
“You came.” Mom’s face brightened when she saw Darcy.
In her midfifties, Meredith Jones was still striking, even in orange. Gray mixed in with blond gave her hair the look of expensive highlights. They didn’t allow much in the way of makeup on the inside—foundation, shadow, lip gloss. Mom applied it with a skilled hand.
Darcy gave her a hug. “Of course I came. It’s your birthday.” Too many of her birthdays had been celebrated this way.
They sat across from each other at a table. Mom stared at Darcy as if she was a sight for sore eyes. Or as if she was sizing her up for shady purposes. And didn’t that sum up Darcy’s opinion of their relationship?
Regardless, Darcy forced her words and her smile to be cheerful. “How’ve you been? You look thin.” Wiry. Hardened.
“Menopause.” Mom shook her head. “It’s tougher to endure than the attitude of some of the violent offenders in here.” She reached for Darcy’s hand, earning a reprimand from a guard. Other than hugs of greeting, no touching was allowed. “Tell me all the news. Or at least the news I haven’t heard since my last birthday, when you told me you married old George, which was a coup, even by my standards. Word reached us that he kicked the bucket and that you’re the new judge. You’ve already got a reputation and everything.”
“A reputation? It’s too soon for reputations.” The last thing Darcy wanted to admit to was her situation. She deflected. “Have you heard anything from Eddie or Dad?”
“Your father and brother are fine. Stay on point.” Mom brushed aside Darcy’s attempt to change the subject. “Word is you’re tough on crime.”
“You say I’m a tough judge like it’s a bad thing.” Darcy clasped her hands in her lap. “Are you sure they aren’t still talking about George? My…my husband?”
Mom shook her head, leaned forward, and whispered, “Be careful, Darcy. Ease up on those severe sentences. To pull off a proper long-term scam, you can’t make enemies.”
“My being a judge isn’t a con.” But Darcy squirmed in her chair, giving her discomfort away. “I…I earned this chance.”
“Sure you did.” Laughing, Mom sat back in her chair. “I’d expect you to say nothing less. Half the success of a hustle lies in becoming who you say you are.”
A chill crept down Darcy’s spine. “I didn’t scam George.” But she had tried to become someone else.
Her mother ignored her. “People hustle every day. They just d
on’t call it that. They make subtle changes to please their spouse or anyone they’re in a relationship with.”
That chill spread to Darcy’s limbs. “Like a relationship with your daughter?”
Her mother didn’t even flinch. “We were talking about your grand scheme. This will be hard for any Jones to top.”
The cold inside Darcy gave way to the heat of anger. “There is no grand scheme. I have a law degree.”
“I know.”
“I passed the bar.”
“I know.”
“I was appointed interim judge on a recommendation.”
Mom quirked her eyebrows. “Whose?”
Some Jones she was. Darcy had let her emotions get the best of her and fallen into her mother’s trap.
“I’m not college-educated, Darcy, but I’m no dummy. Judges are old, plucked from a pool of experienced, practicing lawyers.” Mom waited until a guard had passed to continue. “I can’t tell you how proud you’ve made me. I worried when I entrusted you to George’s care that you were too much of a follower. But you proved me wrong. You got more out of old George than I ever did.”
Darcy’s stomach roiled. She wished Stogey were sitting in her lap. She wished her fingers were curled around Jason’s. “I’m nothing like you. Marriage, a judgeship, a house. Everything was George’s idea.”
“Really?” Mom laughed. “You’re a Jones unicorn. A natural hustler. You look at something. You want it. And without much effort, it drops into your lap.”
“It wasn’t like that.” But Darcy’s stomach continued to roil.
“Oh, you’re a unicorn, all right.” More laughter.
Darcy wanted her mother to stop laughing, stop presuming Darcy’s life was one big con. She had no choice but to go on the offensive. “And in this unicorn scenario, are you my fairy godmother?”
Mom stopped laughing but continued to grin. “Who else would you credit with teaching you a lost art until it became second nature? And now you need to turn your skill toward the ones who helped get you here.” Her tone turned as hard as the look in her eyes. “I come up for parole review in a few months. You need to speak at my hearing. You know, tell them that I’m reformed.”
Dream a Little Dream Page 19
