How was he supposed to convince her that he loved her when she’d insisted they keep to themselves for a while? And for how long?
Later that afternoon, even though he didn’t know what he could say, he tried calling Trish, but Aggie answered the phone. “Now, Morgan,” she said when he asked to speak to Trish, “you need to give her some time. Things will work out for the best.”
“I need to talk to her, Miss Aggie.”
“She’s at Kate and Dusty’s. Now isn’t a good time.”
Before he could say more, she’d hung up.
He wasn’t sure if he could get through Kate to Trish if he tried calling, so he didn’t. But by the next day, he decided he might be able to talk Kate into being his ally. It was far-fetched, he knew, but any chance was better than none.
Kate, however, was like a brick wall and had very little to say except to leave Trish alone until he came to his senses. Because he hadn’t reached that point and didn’t know where bad sense ended and good sense started in all of it, he chalked it up as another failure and managed to get through the rest of that day and the day after.
But when Wednesday rolled around and he saw Trish in town, it was clear she was avoiding him. She nearly sprinted to her car when she saw him as she left the Chick-a-Lick Café and he was headed there for lunch.
By late Friday, he was beside himself, more confused than ever. Somehow, he thought, sitting at the desk in the sheriff’s office, the tiny baby jersey spread before him, he had to figure this out. He had to find that middle Ernie had talked about.
Pushing away from the desk, he stood and walked to the window that looked out over Desperation’s Main Street. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two figures, one an older man in his seventies, the other a woman about the same age. Vern and Esther. According to everyone in town, Esther had been chasing Vern for years. Literally.
Was that going to be him? Would he be chasing after Trish for years and years while she ran away, the way Esther did with Vern? He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let it come to that.
He remembered his conversation with Dusty, how Kate’s husband had told him that keeping secrets from the Clayborne women could lead to trouble. Dusty had been right. If he’d been honest with Trish when they’d first met, if he’d told her about Miami, maybe things would be different.
And he remembered what Connie had said, how she was thankful for the years she and Ben had spent together.
He’d found love in Desperation, and he wasn’t willing to give it up. He would talk to Trish. He would find a way to make her listen, one last time. And maybe as he did, he would begin to understand himself.
The vision of Dusty chasing Kate through town at the July Fourth celebration came to mind. Dusty had gone so far as to rope Kate to get her to listen. If that’s what it took, or something like that, then that’s what he’d do.
And in that instant, Morgan knew what needed to be done.
TRISH SAT at the table in Kate’s kitchen, surrounded by honey oak cabinets and frilly white curtains at the windows, so unlike Kate it was almost laughable. But Kate looked right at home that Saturday as they waited for Aggie to join them for an early evening meal. Kate had fixed Dusty’s favorite fried chicken and Trish had fixed the trimmings, feeling smug that everything had turned out perfectly. Aunt Aggie was expected at any moment, and the sun was moving toward the horizon.
“It’ll work out,” Kate said for the hundredth time in the past week. “Morgan isn’t a fool. He’s smart.”
Sighing, Trish nodded, but she didn’t feel as positive as her sister did. “I hope so. Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to avoid him.”
“It’s exactly what you should be doing. Just be patient a little longer.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Trish answered as the phone rang.
Kate hurried to answer it. “Yes, she’s right here.” Handing the phone to Trish, she said, “It’s Hettie.”
“Hi, Hettie,” Trish greeted her when she took the phone. “What’s going on?”
“I called the farm, but Aggie said you were there at Kate’s. By the way, Aggie is on her way and should be there any minute.”
“Oh, good, dinner’s almost ready.”
Hettie whispered a sigh. “Oh, dear. I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to run into town.”
Disappointing Hettie was something she hated to do. “What for?”
“I need your opinion on the new drapes for my apartment,” Hettie rushed on. “I was planning to go into the city and get them as soon as possible, but I wanted to see what you thought first.”
“You were going tonight?”
“No, no. First thing, right after church in the morning,” Hettie explained, “before the crowds get too big to shop without a problem. But if you’re busy…”
Trish glanced at Kate, who was setting the table with the pottery she’d received as a wedding gift. “Well, I suppose I could,” she said, shrugging when Kate turned to look at her.
“No, no, I don’t want to take you away from the family, even for a few minutes.”
“It’s not a problem, Hettie,” Trish answered, feeling bad to be thinking only of herself. Hettie had always gone out of her way to help the Claybornes without even being asked. She’d been like Trish and Kate’s fairy godmother for as long as they could remember. “I can be there in a few minutes and back without missing much of anything here. Kate can hold things up for a little while.”
“Dusty wouldn’t be too pleased,” Hettie pointed out.
Trish laughed. “He’ll survive. But really, Hettie, Kate won’t mind and neither would I.”
“You’re sure?” Hettie asked, hesitating. “I’d feel bad if I made everyone change their plans. We can do it another time. Don’t you worry.”
“Hang on for one second, Hettie.” Trish placed her hand over the receiver so Hettie wouldn’t hear. “Kate, can we delay dinner for a little bit? Hettie needs my help. It shouldn’t take long.”
Kate shrugged. “It makes no difference to me. The gravy isn’t made yet, and everything else can be kept warm. We’ve done that enough times during wheat harvest.”
“Thanks,” Trish told her, then removed her hand. “Hettie, Kate said she can hold dinner. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
“Oh, Trish, that’s so nice of you. I should have called earlier, but I got busy with other things and simply forgot. You’re always such a dear girl.”
Trish smiled. “I’m happy to help whenever I can. You know that.”
“Then I’ll see you in ten minutes or so?”
“I’ll be there soon.”
When she’d said goodbye and hung up, Kate nudged her. “You’re always a sucker for Hettie.”
“And you’re not?” Trish asked, grabbing her purse from the chair where she’d left it. “Well…”
“Right,” Trish said, laughing, and started for the door. “I won’t be gone long. Something about needing my opinion on drapes for her apartment that she absolutely must get tomorrow after church.”
“That’s Hettie. If you’ll turn the oven on to warm on your way out, I’ll put everything in it and you can be on your way.”
Trish did as requested, and then opened the door to step outside before calling over her shoulder, “Tell Dusty I promise I won’t be gone long enough that he’ll have to worry about starving.”
Kate laughed. “I’ll do that. But I’m sure he’ll waste away, no matter what.”
“No doubt about it,” Trish answered with a wave of her hand as she hurried to her car.
The early evening was cold, with a hint of a breeze, and she pulled her coat around her as she slid inside her car and started the engine. Out on the road, she took a long look at her surroundings, appreciating the beautiful countryside. Clouds from earlier in the day banked in the northeast, moving away, while the sun shined against them, creating dark silhouettes of the bare trees in the distance.
Even the bleakness of winter held its own beauty, she
thought with a sigh as she turned off the dirt road and onto the highway to drive on toward town. Knowing Morgan would be on duty and probably busy at the office, she was certain she was safe from seeing him at the Commune.
She wasn’t a cold-weather person and was glad when the motor had warmed enough to turn on the heater. At the crossroad of Main Street, she came to a stop at the stop sign, quickly looked both ways and then proceeded into the intersection.
Surprised by the whoop whoop of a siren, she glanced in her rearview mirror to see flashing red lights behind her. “What the—”
She was tempted to keep going. She wasn’t in the mood to see or talk to Morgan, and she was sure it was him in the patrol car behind her. Why would he feel the need to stop her, when he had to know she wasn’t ready to continue the discussion she had thought had ended—at least for a while—the previous weekend? She was obviously going to find out, whether she wanted to or not.
Once she reached the other side of Main Street, she pulled slowly to the side of the road and stopped her car. Turning off the engine was not an option. She didn’t want him to think she was eager for a chat, but was ready to leave at any moment.
Rolling down the window in anticipation, she stared straight ahead and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. How long would this take?
She felt him rather than saw him stop at her open window. “License and registration, please.”
Giving a short but quiet humph under her breath, she reached for her purse, pulled out her driver’s license and handed it to him without glancing at the window. “Was I speeding?” she asked, a note of sarcasm in her voice.
“Your registration?”
She heaved a loud, irritated sigh and started to reach toward her glove compartment for the required paperwork. What was his problem?
“Step out of the car, miss.”
Freezing, her hand in midair, she gave an unladylike grunt, much like her aunt’s. “Enough, Morgan. What do you want?”
The door opened and a rush of cold air greeted her. “Please step out of the car.”
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as she pulled her coat around her and scooted out the door. “Did Hettie send you after me? Is that it?”
“Just doing my job, miss. Now if you’ll just wait—”
“For what?” she demanded, turning to look at him. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
His expression was as stoic and impassive as always, and his voice cool when he answered, “The law requires a driver to bring the vehicle to a complete stop at a stop sign.”
Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin in defiance at the absurdity of the situation. “I did.”
“No, miss, you didn’t.”
Planting her hands on her hips, she drew herself up as tall as she could. “I did!”
“No, miss, you didn’t.”
“You’re wrong. I stopped. I made sure I did. You can’t do this, so just go fight some crime somewhere or something.”
“Please calm down, miss.”
“No, I won’t. Stop this insane whatever you’re doing and let me get on my way.” She was done dealing with this foolishness and moved to return to her car.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come with me.”
When he gently took her arm, she pulled away. “You’re kidding!”
It was only a beat or two of the heart later that he looked down, met her gaze and said, “I don’t kid.”
It was enough to calm her down and stop arguing. “All right. Where are we going?”
“Would you turn off your engine, please?”
Cars had begun to gather on the street, but she barely noticed as she stared up at him. “You want me to leave my car here?”
“It’ll be perfectly safe.”
The whole thing was unbelievable, but the more she resisted, the longer this would take. “Fine.”
When she was done, he stepped back. “Follow me, please.”
With a shrug of resignation, she followed him to the cruiser, where he opened the back door and waited. “You want me to get in there? In the back? And just where was it you said we were going?”
“To the station.”
“For what reason?”
“You’re under arrest.”
She couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she told him. But the look on his face told her he was serious and arguing wouldn’t change anything. After sliding into the backseat of the cruiser, she leaned forward. “You are so going to regret this, Morgan Rule.”
The ride to the station was short and silent. Trish noticed Morgan glance in the mirror at her more than once, but she sat quietly, arms folded, and said nothing, although she couldn’t remember ever feeling so furious with anyone.
When they arrived at their destination, he opened the back door and escorted her into the building. Several cars had followed them, and the occupants were now getting out, obviously curious about what was happening. Stu sat at the desk, his feet propped on the top of it, and he immediately swung his legs down, a look of guilt on his usually friendly face. Morgan held out his hand, and his deputy placed a ring of keys in it.
A handful of people stepped inside the office, whispering to each other, but Morgan didn’t seem to notice. “This way,” he said and led her to the lone cell.
Trish was incensed. “In there?”
“As I stated earlier, you’re under arrest.” He swung the cell door open and waited while she stepped inside.
“For what?” she asked, turning to face him.
He entered the small cell. “Failure to yield,” he said and closed himself inside it with her.
“FAILURE TO YIELD?” Trish asked.
Morgan pretended not to hear. “Stu?”
“Yessir,” his deputy said, jumping to his feet.
Morgan tossed the ring of keys to him. “You know what to do with them.”
“Yessir.”
Morgan watched as Stu pocketed the keys, grabbed his hat and left the station.
“Get him back here,” Trish demanded, as more people entered the office to join the others.
Morgan ignored the growing audience and lowered himself to the lone cot and settled onto it. “Can’t.”
“Of course you can!”
“He’ll be back when I tell him it’s time.”
“Well, it’s time,” she replied, her mouth pulled down in the deepest frown he’d ever seen on her face.
He suddenly wondered if he’d ever see her famous dimples again. If this plan of his didn’t work, he was cooked. “I have some things I need to say to you,” he told her as she stood watching him. When she started to reply, he held up his hand to silence her before she got going. “I know you didn’t want to rehash all this again, but there are some things I have to tell you, and I can promise you that you won’t be leaving until you hear them.”
“That isn’t likely,” she said, turning her back to him.
“Suit yourself, Trish. But Stu won’t be back with the keys until I tell him.”
“You tell her, Sheriff!” someone shouted.
Even from behind, he saw her stiffen as she stood in the middle of the cell, silent.
Minutes ticked by slowly, and he finally clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall with a sigh. He had nothing better to do. Either this would end it for them, ruining his chances to ever be a real father to his child, or it would be a new beginning for them. At least that’s what he hoped for as he sat there, his eyes closed. “Would you like to sit down?” he asked, opening his eyes to look at her.
She hesitated as she glanced back at him. “I might as well,” she finally said.
She sat delicately on the other end of the cot, presented him with her back and said nothing.
“Now they’re getting somewhere,” a woman in the crowd said. Fifteen minutes passed before there was even a creak from the cot. She leaned sideways against the wall, pulling her knees up beneath her. He knew she
couldn’t be comfortable, but he wouldn’t do anything to help. Not until she was ready to listen to him.
Outside the cell, people were getting restless. Morgan knew he could send them on their way, but he hoped they wouldn’t get out of hand before Trish came to her senses and listened to him. When it was time to tell them to go, he would.
She moved slowly and stretched out her arms and legs. Sitting on the edge of the cot, she looked up and toward the office crowded with people. The fight appeared to have drained from her; she gave him a sideways glance. “My family is probably worried to death. You know that don’t you?”
She obviously hadn’t seen them in the crowd. “They’re aware of the situation.”
One blond eyebrow, only a shade darker than her pale hair, lifted. “Then I’m surprised Kate hasn’t shown up with her shotgun.”
He wouldn’t have smiled if he hadn’t seen the glint of humor in her eyes as she turned to look at him. “I guess she figured it was going to come to something like this. After all, this is Dusty’s fault.”
“Really,” she said. “And how is that?”
“Oh, it was perfectly innocent,” Morgan explained, stretching his own limbs. “He reminded me the other day about the Fourth of July celebration.”
For a moment, she didn’t appear to understand, and then she closed her eyes. “The lasso.” He nodded.
Another few seconds of silence passed, and then she turned to look at him. “All right. You win this one. Say whatever it is you have to say. This cot is too uncomfortable to stay on for much longer.” Moving, she sighed. “And I’m hungry.”
His moment of judgment was upon him, and he suddenly didn’t know where to start. And then he thought of Hettie asking him if he’d told Trish he loved her. He knew where to start.
He cleared his throat and silently prayed this was the right thing to do. “Before I say more,” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “the first thing I want to tell you is that I love you.” As the crowd outside the cell quieted, he focused on Trish. “I’ve never stopped loving you since the day I pulled Kate over at the stop sign and ticketed her for not coming to a complete stop.”
The Lawman's Little Surprise Page 17
