The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 2

by Nora Roberts

  Then she stopped wondering, stopped thinking, blocked everything out but the mechanical chore of heating water and hacking a spoon at coffee grains gone to brown concrete in a little glass jar.

  The milk was sour, and there was no sugar to be found. She carried two mugs of dismal-looking liquid back to the living room. Her stomach would have rejected even the appearance of drinking.

  “That woman,” Sarabeth was saying. “She tried to lure my Han. She played on his weaknesses, tempted him. But he resisted. He told me all about it. I don’t know where she got herself beat up, probably some pervert she sold herself to, but she said it was Han to pay him back for refusing her. That’s what happened.”

  “All right, Sari.” J.R. sat on the sofa beside her, patted her hand. “We won’t worry about that part of it right now, okay? Do you have any notion, any notion at all where Han might go?”

  “No!” She shouted it, jerking away from him and nearly upending the coffee Tory put on the table. “You think I wouldn’t go to him if I knew? A woman cleaves to her husband. I told the cops the same thing. Told them just what I’m telling you. I don’t expect a bunch of corrupt, godforsaken cops to take my word, but I’d think my own flesh and blood would believe me.”

  “I do. ‘Course I do.” He picked up a mug of coffee and gently pushed it into her hands. “I just thought maybe something occurred to you, that maybe you remembered a couple of places that he went when he went off before.”

  “It’s not like he went off.” Sarabeth’s lips trembled as she sipped. “He just needs to get away and think sometimes is all. Men got a lot of pressure, providing. And sometimes, Han, he just needs to be off by himself, to think things through, to pray on them. But he’s been gone too long now. I’m thinking maybe he’s hurt.”

  Tears spurted into her eyes again. “That woman lying about him, getting him in all that trouble, it was weighing heavy on his mind. Now the police are talking like he’s a fugitive. They just don’t understand.”

  “Was he going to the alcohol rehab program?”

  “I guess he was.” She sniffed. “Han didn’t need no program. He wasn’t a drunk. Just now and then he took a bit to relax. Jesus drank wine, didn’t he?”

  Jesus, Tory thought, hadn’t made a habit of downing the best part of a bottle of Wild Turkey and stomping hell out of the womenfolk. But her mother wouldn’t see the difference.

  “They’re always on his back at work, you know, pushing at him ‘cause they know he’s smarter than they are. And the chickens cost more to keep than we figured. That bastard down at the feed and grain raised his prices so he can keep his on-the-side chickie in perfume. Han told me how it was.”

  “Honey, you have to face the fact that by leaving this way, Han broke his probation. He broke the law.”

  “Well, the law’s wrong. What am I going to do, J.R.? I’m just frantic over it. And everybody’s wanting money, and there’s nothing coming in except what I get for eggs. I’ve been to the bank, but those thieving, sneaking liars took what we got in there and said how Han withdrew the funds. Withdrew the funds, they said, with their prissy lying mouths.”

  “I’ll take care of the bills.” He had done so before. “You don’t worry about that. Here’s what I think we should do. I think you should get some things together and come on home with me. You can stay with me and Boots until everything’s straightened out.”

  “I can’t leave. Han could come back any minute.”

  “You can leave him a note.”

  “That’d just make him mad.” Her eyes began to dart around, wary birds looking for a safe place to light, away from her husband’s righteous fury. “A man’s got a right to expect his wife to be home when he gets there. For her to be waiting under the roof he puts over her head.”

  “Your roof has holes in it, Mama,” Tory said quietly, and earned a searing whip of a stare.

  “Nothing was ever good enough for you, was it? No matter how hard your daddy worked and I sweated, it was never fine enough. Always wanting more.”

  “I never asked for more.”

  “You were smart enough not to say it out loud. But I saw it, saw it in your eyes. Sneaky’s what you were, sneaky and sly,” Sarabeth said, with a violent twist of her mouth. “And didn’t you run off first chance you got, never looked back, either, never honored your father and mother. You were obliged to pay back what we sacrificed for you, but you were too selfish. We had a decent life in Progress, still would if you hadn’t ruined it.”

  “Sarabeth.” Helplessly, J.R. gave her hand quick, light pats. “That’s not fair and that’s not true.”

  “She brought shame on us. Brought it the minute she was born. We were happy before she came along.” She began to cry again, harsh, racking sobs that shook her shoulders.

  At a loss, J.R. put an arm around her and made shushing noises.

  With her face and mind blank, Tory bent down and began to clear the litter from the table.

  Sarabeth was up like a thunderbolt. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Since you’re determined to stay, I thought I’d clean this up for you.”

  “I don’t need you criticizing me.” She slapped the plates to the floor. “I don’t need you coming here with your hoity-toity ways and your fancy clothes trying to make me look bad. You turned your back on me years ago, and as far as I’m concerned, you can keep on walking.”

  “You turned yours on me the first time you sat quiet while he beat me bloody.”

  “God made man master of his own house. You never got licked you didn’t deserve it.”

  Licked, Tory thought. Such a friendly word for horror. “Is that how you sleep at night?”

  “Don’t you sass me. Don’t you disrespect your daddy. You tell me where he is, damn you. You know, you can see. You tell me where he is so I can go take care of him.”

  “I won’t look for him. If I stumbled over him bleeding in a ditch, I’d leave him there.” Her head snapped back when Sarabeth slapped her, and the raw red print stained her cheek. But she barely flinched.

  “Sarabeth! God Almighty, Sari.” J.R. grabbed her, pinned her arms while she struggled and sobbed and screamed.

  “I was going to say I hope he’s dead.” Tory spoke quietly. “But I don’t. I hope he comes back to you, Mama. I dearly hope he comes back and gives you the life you seem to want.”

  She opened her purse, took out the hundred-dollar bill she’d put in it that morning. “If and when he does, you tell him this is the last payment he’ll ever get from me. You tell him I’m living back in Progress, that I’m making a life there for myself. If he wants to come and raise his hand to me again, then he better make it last, he better beat me dead this time. Because if he doesn’t finish me, I will him.”

  She closed her purse. “I’ll be in the car,” she said to J.R., and walked out.

  Her legs didn’t start to shake until she sat down and pulled the door closed. Then the trembling started at her knees and worked up so that she crossed her arms over her torso, pressed hard and with her eyes closed, waited for it to pass.

  She could hear the weeping, rolling like lava out of the house, and the monotonous cluck and squawk of the chickens hunting for food. From somewhere close by was the deep-throated, angry bark of a dog.

  And still, she thought, over it all the birds sang, in determinedly cheerful notes.

  She concentrated on that sound, and willed her mind away. Oddly, unexpectedly, she found herself standing in her kitchen, her head on Cade’s shoulder, his lips brushing her hair.

  Resting there, she didn’t hear her uncle until he settled in the seat beside her and closed his door.

  He said nothing as he pulled away from the house, nothing when he stopped a half mile away and just sat, his hands resting on the wheel and his eyes staring away at empty space.

  “I shouldn’t have let you come,” he said at last. “I thought—I don’t know what I was thinking, but I guess I had some idea that she’d want to see you,
that the two of you might be able to make some of it up with Han gone off this way.”

  “I’m not part of her life except to blame for things. He is her life. That’s the way she wants it.”

  “Why? For God’s sake, Tory, why would she want to live like this, live with a man who’s never given her any joy?”

  “She loves him.”

  “That’s not love.” He spat the words out, along with anger and disgust. “That’s a sickness. You heard the way she made excuses for him, how she put it off on everybody but him. The woman he attacked, the police, even the goddamn bank.”

  “She wants to believe it. She needs to.” Seeing he was more upset than she’d realized, Tory laid a hand on his arm. “You did all you could.”

  “All I could. Gave her money and left her there, in that hovel. And I’ll tell you the truth, Tory, I’m thanking God right now she didn’t want to come home with me, that I don’t have to bring that sickness into my house. I’m ashamed of it.” His voice broke, and he dropped his forehead to the wheel.

  Because he needed it, Tory unsnapped her seat belt and leaned into him, her head on his arm, her hand rubbing circles on his wide back. “There’s no shame in that, Uncle Jimmy, no shame in wanting to protect your home and Aunt Boots, to keep all of this away. I could’ve done what she asked me to do. I could have given her that. But I didn’t, and I won’t. I’m not going to be ashamed of it.”

  He nodded, and struggling for composure sat back again. “Hell of a family, aren’t we, baby?” Gently, very gently, he touched his fingertips to the raw spot on her cheek. Then he shifted back into first, eased on the gas. “Tory, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t have the heart to go by and see your gran just now.”

  “Neither do I. Let’s just go home.”

  When her uncle dropped her off, Tory didn’t go into her house, but transferred to her own car and drove directly to her shop. She had hours to make up for and was grateful the work and rush would keep her mind off how she’d spent her morning.

  Her first call was to the florist, clearing them to deliver the ficus and the flower arrangement she’d ordered the week before. Her next was to the bakery to confirm the cookies and petits fours she’d selected would be ready for her to pick up first thing in the morning.

  It was late into the day before she’d satisfied herself that all the arrangements were in the most attractive spots. For a celebrational touch, she began to string fairy lights through the graceful branches of the ficus.

  The little bell on her door rang, reminding her she’d forgotten to lock it after the last delivery.

  “Saw you as I was passing by.” Dwight stepped in, scanned the shop, then gave a low whistle. “I was going to see if everything worked out for you, and if you needed any last-minute help. But seems like you’ve got it under control.”

  “I think so.” She straightened, standing with the end of the string of lights still in her hand. “Your crew did a wonderful job, Dwight. I couldn’t be happier with the work.”

  “Just make sure you mention Frazier’s if anyone compliments your carpentry.”

  “You can count on it.”

  “Oh now, this is nice work.” He walked over to a cutting board fashioned of narrow strips of various tones of wood, and sanded smooth as glass. “Beautiful work. I do some woodworking in my hobby room, but nothing as nice as this. Almost too pretty to use.”

  “Form and function. That’s the key here.”

  “Lissy’s happy with that candle thing she bought in here, and shows off the mirror every chance she gets. Said it wouldn’t hurt her feelings if I took a look at the jewelry and found her something to brighten her mood.”

  “Isn’t she feeling well?”

  “Oh, she’s fine.” Dwight waved at the question as he wandered the shop. “Gets the baby blues now and then, that’s all.” He tucked his thumbs in his front pockets and gave her a sheepish grin. “While I’m here I guess I ought to apologize.”

  “Oh.” Since he appeared to be staying awhile longer, Tory continued to thread the lights through the branches. “For?”

  “For letting Lissy think you and Cade were enjoying each other’s company.”

  “I don’t mind Cade’s company.”

  “Now, I don’t know whether you’re letting me off the hook or stringing me like you are those little lights. The thing is, well, Lissy just gets the bit between her teeth on some things. She keeps trying to match Cade up with someone, and if it’s not him, it’s Wade. She’s got some wild hair about getting my friends married off. Cade just wanted to wiggle out of her last matchmaking attempt and told me to tell her he was …”

  He flushed now as Tory simply studied him silently.

  “That he was what you could say involved with someone. I told her how it was you, figuring since you’d pretty much just gotten back to town she’d believe it, and let things alone for a while.”

  “Uh-huh.” Finished, Tory plugged the lights in, then stepped back to gauge the results.

  “I should’ve known better,” Dwight went on, frantically digging the hole deeper. “God knows I’m not deaf and know Lissy tends to talk. By the time Cade got back to me to ring a peel over my head, I’d already heard from six different people the two of you were half near engaged and planning a nursery.”

  “It might’ve been simpler just to tell her the truth, that Cade wasn’t interested in being fixed up.”

  “Now, I wouldn’t say simpler.” His handsome white teeth flashed again, quick, charming, and male. “I tell her that, she wants to know why. I say something like some men aren’t looking for marriage. She comes back and says it’s good enough for you, isn’t it? Or are you wishing you were footloose and fancy-free like your two best pals? I say, no, honeybunch, but by then I’ve got one foot in the doghouse.”

  Trying to look pitiful, he scratched his head. “I tell you, Tory, marriage is a walk on a greased-up tightrope, and any man who tells you he wouldn’t sacrifice a friend to keep from slipping off’s a damn liar. Besides, the way I hear it, you and Cade’ve been seen around together a few times.”

  “Are you making a statement or asking a question?”

  He shook his head. “I should’ve said dealing with a woman’s like a walk on that tightrope. Better quit while I can still make it to safe ground.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Well, Lissy’s having herself a hen party, a woman’s get-together,” he corrected quickly, seeing Tory’s brows shoot up. “I’m going to wander over to Wade’s, see if he wants to grab some supper and keep me company till it’s safe to go home. I’ll stop by tomorrow. Maybe you can help me pick out some earrings or something.”

  “I’ll be happy to.”

  He walked to the door, paused. “It looks nice in here, Tory. Classy. This place is going to be good for the town.”

  She hoped so, she thought, as she went behind him to lock up. But more, she hoped the town was going to be good for her.

  Dwight walked down to cross at the light. As mayor it was important to set a good example. He’d given up jaywalking, and drinking more than two beers a night in a bar, and driving over the posted limit. Small sacrifices, he thought, but every now and again he had the urge to shake off the restraints.

  Came from being a late bloomer, he supposed, and gave a quick salute toward the beep of a horn as Betsy Gluck drove by. He hadn’t started to hit his stride until his middle teens, then he’d been so dazzled that girls actually wanted to talk to him, he’d stumbled straight into the backseat of his first car with Lissy—well, a few others, then Lissy—found himself going steady with the prettiest and most popular girl in school. Before he knew it he was renting a tux for his wedding.

  Not that he regretted it. Not for a minute. Lissy was just what he wanted. She was still as pretty as she’d been in high school. Maybe she fussed and pouted some, but name him a woman who didn’t.

  They had a fine house, a beautiful son, and another baby on the way. A damn good life, and he w
as mayor of the town in which he’d once been a joke.

  A man had to appreciate the irony of that.

  If now and again he got an itch, it was natural enough. But the fact was he didn’t want to be married to anyone but his Lissy, didn’t want to live anywhere but Progress, and wanted his life to keep right on going just as it was.

  He opened the door to Wade’s waiting room in time to be all but bowled over by a frantic sheepdog bent on escape.

  “Sorry! Oh, Mongo.” The blonde struggling to hold the leash was both pretty and unfamiliar. She sent Dwight an apologetic look out of soft green eyes, even while her Kewpie-doll lips turned up in a quick smile. “He just got his shots and he’s feeling betrayed.”

  “Can’t say I blame him.” Since doing otherwise would compromise his manhood, Dwight risked his fingers and patted the dog through the mop of gray and white hair. “Don’t recall seeing you or Mongo around town before.”

  “We’ve only been here a few weeks. I moved down from Dillon. I teach English at the high school—well, I’ll be teaching summer classes, then I’ll start full-time in the fall. Mongo, sit!” With a toss of her hair, she offered a hand. “Sherry Bellows, and you can blame me for the dog hair covering your jeans.”

  “Dwight Frazier, nice to meet you. I’m the town mayor, so I’m the one you come to if you’ve got any complaints.”

  “Oh, everything’s been just fine. But I’ll keep that in mind.” She turned her head back toward the examining room. “Everyone’s been very friendly and helpful. I’d better get Mongo in the car before he breaks the leash and you have to give me a citation.”

  “Need a hand?”

  “No, I’ve got him.” She laughed as she and the dog lunged out the door. “Barely. Nice to have met you, Mayor Frazier. Bye, Max!”

  “Likewise,” he murmured, then rolled his eyes toward Maxine at reception. “Didn’t have English teachers like that when I was in Progress High. Might’ve taken me a few more years to graduate.”

  “You men.” Maxine chuckled as she took her handbag out of the bottom drawer. “So predictable. Mongo was our last patient, Mayor. Doc Wade’s washing up in the back. You mind telling him I’m running off to make my evening lecture?”