by Linda Warren
“I could kill you for what you’ve done to her.” His breath burned in his throat.
Brewster shot him a cold stare. “But you won’t.”
“Don’t be too sure of that.”
“Oh, but I am,” Brewster retorted. “You’re nothing like your father. You don’t have a violent bone in your body.”
Jonas was taken aback, and all anger left him. For years he’d believed he was like his father. Abby had told him that he wasn’t, and now Brewster was telling him the same thing. His anger frightened him at times, and he was afraid he’d do something violent, but he abhorred violence. He’d been raised in it and it sickened him. He took a hard breath. They were right. He wasn’t like his father.
In that moment he made a decision. “I’m leaving,” he said quietly.
“We have a deal,” Brewster reminded him.
“Call the sheriff,” he replied, and headed out the door.
“Jonas, come back here,” Brewster ordered, but Jonas didn’t stop.
He had a need for fresh air, the wind in his face and the sun on his skin. He drove to the warehouse and his motorcycle. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he was leaving, and—like Abby—he wasn’t sure if he was ever coming back.
SIMON BREWSTER STOOD by his window, staring down at Jonas with a somber expression. Edna and Jules entered the room.
“What are you doing?” Edna asked. “You shouldn’t be up.”
“Watching Jonas. He’s leaving.”
“Don’t worry,” Edna soothed. “It’s time he left. Jules can run the farm.”
Simon sank heavily in his rocker. “Yeah, he can run it right into the ground.”
“You haven’t given me a chance, Uncle Simon.”
“And you won’t get it, either.”
“That’s not fair,” Edna snapped.
“Get used to it,” Brewster growled. “Nothing in life is fair. It certainly isn’t fair that my daughter hates me.”
Edna glanced at Jules. “What are you going to do about her?”
“I think that decision has been made for me.”
“You don’t need her,” Edna said. “You have us and Darby.”
“Yeah, and where the hell is Darby? Shouldn’t he be here sucking up?”
“He’s in Vegas. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“That’s a big comfort,” Brewster replied sarcastically.
“I can see you’re in one of your moods, so we’ll leave you to get some rest.”
“Yeah, and you’d better pray that Jonas comes back, or it will be hell around here.”
Edna didn’t say another word as they left the room.
“You’d better come back, Jonas,” Simon muttered under his breath. “You’d better come back.”
ABBY DROVE STEADILY toward Dallas. At times she brushed tears away, struggling to keep from falling apart. She stopped for gas in San Antonio, and saw a motorcycle and thought of Jonas. His strength, his warmth seemed to fill the car, and she drove on, each mile taking her farther away from him. A choked sob left her throat several times, but she didn’t turn back. Losing Jonas was a casualty of the devastating events that had taken place. She would survive. She was strong and independent—everyone told her that. So why did she feel weak and needy.
Outside Austin, she stopped at a convenience store and bought Coke and peanuts. Somehow it made her feel closer to Jonas. But she wasn’t close to Jonas. He was in Hope, and she was suspended in a nightmare. Gail and Brewster had taken everything from her…even her ability to love Jonas the way he deserved.
It was cloudy when she stopped in Waco for gas again. As she got out and put the nozzle into the tank, it started to rain. The heavens opened and heavy drops pelted the pavement with a deafening sound. She watched as water ran into a drainpipe. Suddenly something in her broke and she started to cry, hard, racking sobs that she couldn’t stop.
The gas pump clicked, telling her that her tank was full, but she couldn’t move. She could actually feel her heart bleeding, and she knew she was dying inside. Her father’s face swam before her and then Jonas’s replaced it. She gasped as the pain consumed her.
“Ma’am, ma’am, are you all right?”
The words penetrated the heavy fog that surrounded her. She jerked in the direction of the strange voice.
“Are you all right?” a man asked.
Abby blinked and remembered where she was and what she was doing. No, I’ll never be all right again. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she said, and quickly removed the nozzle and retrieved her credit card.
The man eyed her strangely and walked to his vehicle. Abby quickly got into hers and drove into the pouring rain. She had to stop thinking, or she wouldn’t be able to hold it together. She had to stop thinking.
It was late when she drove into her apartment complex, but she felt a moment of relief. This was her world, and now maybe she could get a grip on things. She paused at her apartment. Holly lived two doors down. Abby had the urge to pour her heart out, but she wasn’t ready to do that. Anyway, she didn’t see any lights on in Holly’s place so her friend was probably out. Abby entered her own apartment, dropped her suitcases in the living room, flipped on the lights and locked the door. She walked into the bedroom and fell across the bed. Within minutes she was sound asleep.
JONAS RODE TOWARD LAREDO, then into the Panhandle. Soon he was in New Mexico and Colorado, then Kansas. The farther he went, the cooler the temperatures became. He lost track of the number of days that had passed. He slept in roadside parks and ate occasionally. He wanted to get as far away as he could.
He was so angry at Brewster, but with each mile the anger became less intense and he could think more rationally. Brewster and Abby became intermingled in his head. She was Brewster’s daughter. How could someone as compassionate as Abby be his daughter? Jonas thought about it over and over, until a few facts emerged. Facts he wanted to shut out, but couldn’t. Brewster had his good qualities. He’d done a lot for Hope, Texas—the clinic and hospital, for example. Most towns that small didn’t have those medical services. Hope owed him for that and for the good jobs he’d supplied to the area.
As the wind cooled Jonas’s face, another truth hit him—he owed Brewster, too. That wasn’t easy to admit, but the past reeled through his mind with a shocking reality. He had been on a fast track to prison. The accident and Brewster’s weird proposal had saved him. Brewster had treated him shabbily at first, but Jonas had grown up and learned how to work. Brewster had also made sure he’d had an education…something Jonas wouldn’t have done on his own. He remembered the first time Brewster had given him a paycheck. He’d never had so much money in his life. Every night he’d spread it out on his bed and counted it. He’d stored it away in a box, adding to it each week. Mick had encouraged him to open a bank account, which he did. Year after year Brewster had raised his salary, and now Jonas’s earnings were comparable to those of a CEO of a big company.
He had money, so he could now leave Brewster Farms. Somehow the idea didn’t appeal to him. For twenty years he had worked with Brewster to make Brewster Farms what it was today. Almost without his realizing it, the place had come to mean something to him. Even though Brewster was like a thorn in his side, it was a thorn Jonas was used to. His motorcycle seemed to make its own way back to Texas.
On the trip home, Jonas decided that things were going to change at Brewster Farms. He owed Brewster, but he didn’t owe him his life. And he would tell the old man that up front. How Brewster responded to Jonas’s demands would determine whether he stayed or left for good. He was gambling that loyalty and responsibility meant something to Brewster. It was a long shot at best, but Jonas would only stay on his terms.
Abby had a lot to do with his decision. She’d told him that he didn’t owe Brewster anything else. With all his heart, Jonas hoped she would come back one day, and when she did, he’d be waiting. He’d wait forever if he had to. He was good at doing time.
CHAPTER FOURTE
EN
JONAS PARKED HIS MOTORCYCLE on the drive in front of the mansion. He removed his helmet and hooked it onto the steering wheel. He ran his hands through his long hair. He hadn’t had a bath or shave in over a week and he felt as grimy as hell, but it lifted his spirits to breathe the air of Hope again. It was good to be back. Things were changing, and definitely for the better…except for Abby. When he thought of her, an intense pain gripped his chest.
He marched to the house, up the stairs and into Brewster’s room. The old man was sitting at the window as usual, and he was by himself.
“My God, you look like hell,” he said, at the sight of Jonas.
“This is how it’s going to be,” Jonas said without preamble. “I will run Brewster Farms the way I see fit. I will not check every little detail with you. You will give me complete control. If you have complaints, you come to me and we’ll talk, but you will not order me around anymore. My time here is up, and now I deserve the respect I’ve given you all these years.”
“Fine,” Brewster said.
What!
Jonas hadn’t expected this. He’d expected an argument, a fight, anything but instant agreement.
“You run Brewster Farms,” Brewster said, when Jonas remained quiet. “I don’t know what the difference would be. You’ve been running it for years. You stick all those papers in my face, and I sign things I don’t know anything about. I can’t see squat without my glasses and very little with them. You see, Jonas, I’ve been trusting you longer than you think.”
The words took the wind out of his sails. Brewster had played games to keep from looking like an ass. Jonas could see that now. He was just a desperate old man. Jonas felt a pang of sadness for him.
“Have you seen Abigail?” Brewster asked.
Jonas found his voice. “No.”
“Why not? You’ve been gone long enough.”
“Because she needs to be alone. She needs time.”
“That’s something I don’t have,” Brewster murmured in a quiet tone and Jonas wondered what had happened to this man since he’d been gone. Brewster seemed almost human.
His eyes caught Jonas’s. “Bring her home.”
Jonas held up a hand. “No, that has to be her decision.”
“Dammit, Jonas.”
“And no more orders, remember?”
“Well, you’ll pardon me if I say go take a bath and get rid of that hair on your face.”
Jonas rubbed his beard. “I was planning on doing that, and I’ll probably sleep for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Fine, just get back to work soon, because this place is falling apart, and I’m tired of listening to everyone whining.”
“Yes, sir.” Jonas saluted and started out of the room.
“Jonas.”
He stopped.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
The words threw Jonas into a tailspin. This definitely wasn’t the Brewster he knew. Maybe the old man was in shock or something, but Jonas wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He nodded and ran down the stairs. Yep, he was back and ready to go to work. He didn’t like idleness. He liked having something to do. He enjoyed the workers, the camaraderie, and he liked being in charge. He felt a sense of pride in what he’d achieved. As he straddled the bike, his thoughts turned to Abby and he wondered how she was, if she’d returned to work. He also wondered if she’d ever be able to forgive Gail and Brewster. Maybe her strong spirit would help her see past the cheating and the lying. Then maybe she’d find her way back to Hope, Texas.
ABBY THREW HERSELF into her work. That was all she had now. At night she talked to Holly. She told her everything, even about Jonas. She had to talk to someone. It was the hours between bedtime and morning that got to her…the loneliness, the thinking. She tried to rationalize, to put the events into perspective, but all she felt was the betrayal to her father and her anger toward her mother.
Jonas was never far from her thoughts, but she couldn’t make any decisions about him, either. Every day there were calls from her mother and Mr. Brewster on her answering machine. She never returned them. If the phone rang while she was home, she checked the caller ID and didn’t answer if it was either of them. She didn’t hear a word from Jonas, and that was just as well. Hearing his voice would only make the torment inside her worse.
Tonight she and Holly had made salads and were eating at her place. Usually they worked late. Tonight they had a spare evening.
“You working on the Coleman piece?” Holly asked, as Abby poked at her salad.
“Yeah.” Abby pierced a tomato and stared at it. “It’s very interesting. They had a baby in order to get a bone marrow match that would save the life of their other child. It’s very touching, very moving. It should be a good article.”
“I wish I could have done the photos, but Ted got the call.”
“It’s not award-winning stuff like you do.”
“What do you mean? I keep picturing this little girl with no hair and a bright smile holding the baby brother that saved her life. It could be huge.”
“I suppose,” Abby mumbled, and got up and dumped her salad into the garbage disposal.
“That garbage disposal eats better than you do,” Holly remarked.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re never hungry, Abby. You can’t keep this up. You have to eat or you’ll make yourself sick.”
“I’m fine,” Abby said, and sat down.
“No, you’re not.” Holly waved a hand. “Look at you. You don’t wear makeup and you scrape your hair back. You take no time with your appearance. It’s like you’re in a catatonic state. I don’t know this Abby.”
“I don’t, either,” she choked out, feeling the pressure of walls that were closing in on her.
“Then, for God’s sake do something about it.”
“Like what?”
“Like reviving that spirit and fire that was such a big part of you.”
“I’m not that person anymore.”
“Yes, you are. What is it you used to say in college?” Holly was thoughtful for a second. “Yeah, you’d say, ‘I’m Abigail Duncan—no middle name. My father’s Abe and my mother’s Gail. I was named after them.’ You’re the same Abby you’ve always been and you’re stronger than this. I know you are.”
Abby didn’t say anything—she just stared at the blue napkin on the table.
“Your mother had an affair. She’s human.”
Abby raised her head, her green eyes fiery. “I’m the result of that affair.”
“So what? Your parents have loved and cared for you all your life. You had a childhood that kids dream about. I was shuffled back and forth between my divorced parents like an old shoe. My father’s been married three times, my mother twice. I have half sisters and brothers, not to mention stepsisters and brothers. I need a score card to keep track. I envied that closeness and love you shared with your parents. That love hasn’t changed. It’s still there.”
“It’s different, though,” Abby insisted. “I can get past what she did to me, but I can’t get past what she did to him.”
Holly watched her for a moment, then asked, “Did your father leave her when he found out the truth?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t he?”
Abby shrugged. “I don’t know. He should have.”
“He didn’t leave because he loved her.”
When Abby didn’t answer, Holly went on. “He forgave her. They tell me that’s what love’s all about.”
Abby felt a jolt to her heart, and she held her head with both hands to stop the current surging through her. “Stop it, Holly,” she cried. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Call this Jonas guy,” Holly said softly.
Abby shook her head. “No, I can’t call Jonas.”
“Why not?”
“If I hear his voice, I’ll…Holly, please, let’s drop this.”
Obviously sensing her distress, Holly re
lented and started cleaning up the kitchen. Abby helped. They worked in silence.
Holly folded the dish towel and laid it on the counter. “I hate to bring this up, but Kyle called me again today.”
Abby’s face muscles tightened. “Tell him not to call you.”
“I have—repeatedly, but he seems intent on getting a message to you. He wants you to know how good his life is going and that all he wants to do is apologize. There, I’ve given you the message. My job is done.”
Abby bit down on her lip. “I’ll call him and make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. I have to close that door for good, and the only way to do it is in person.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Abby replied, and she was. She was confused about so many other things, but she had to get Kyle out of her life and the lives of her friends—of that she was positive.
Holly gave her a brief hug. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a six o’clock shoot in the morning.” At the door, she added, “Call Jonas.”
“Holly.” Abby sighed.
“What?” Holly shrugged. “I want to meet this guy. You make him sound like Brad Pitt, George Clooney and Clint Eastwood all rolled into one—with a heart of gold. Perfect is the word that comes to mind.” Holly laughed and disappeared out the door.
Jonas was perfect, and he probably never wanted to see her again. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t want to see herself. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t know the woman staring back at her and she didn’t care to find out who she was. She didn’t care about anything but the pain that was ripping her apart. She knew it was controlling her, and she was powerless to stop it.
JONAS WORKED from daylight to dark, exhausting his body and his mind, but he couldn’t exhaust his heart. Every day he waited for a call from Abby—none came. Days turned into weeks. Thanksgiving came and went and still there was no word. He took several trips into Mexico, looking for the old lady who made the jackets. On the third trip he found her and purchased one similar to the one Abby had bought. The old lady wanted to give it to him because he’d been so generous before, but he couldn’t let her do that. Again he paid her a hundred dollars and enjoyed the smile on her face. He had the jacket in his apartment. He’d give it to Abby one of these days. When? He had no idea.
