by Sheryl Lynn
“Forgiven.”
“Good. Because I refuse to let King ruin the best night I’ve ever had.”
At her house, he hopped out of the truck and hurried to the passenger side to help her down. Even when she was firmly on the ground, he kept holding her hand.
“The best night ever?” she questioned.
“If there were better nights, I can’t think of any.”
He walked her to the door. The porch light cast alluring shadows over the strong lines of his cheeks and jaw. His eyes were dark, compelling. The last remnants of anger at her uncle wisped away. Her heart began to thump with the possibilities. Jodi was staying all night at the big house. She and Ric were adults. It might be uncomfortable for both of them to share the bed she’d shared with Bobby, but there was always the guest room—or the kitchen floor.
She wanted him. Lord have mercy, but she wanted him bad.
He ever so slowly, ever so gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Knowing exactly what would happen if she invited him inside, she despaired. If they made love before he knew about Jodi, it would seem as if she seduced him in order to protect herself. He adjusted the shawl higher on her shoulders. His actions were so tender her hips went heavy and loose.
“Would you care to come inside? Have a nightcap?”
Had she actually said that? Was that her voice sounding so smoky and seductive? She couldn’t believe how deep a hole she was digging for herself.
He turned his gaze to the night. His chest rose and fell in a silent sigh. “No.”
Her mouth fell open. Every look he turned her way radiated desire. She knew he wanted her. Maybe King’s harassment made him realize she was more trouble than she was worth. She searched for means to regain a shred of dignity.
He took her right hand in both of his. “I see tonight as starting over. We made a lot of mistakes in the past. Our relationship back then was based as much on rebelliousness as it was on mutual desire.”
She struggled to make sense of what he was saying. “Do you think so? I don’t. I—I cared so much about you.”
“I want you to care again. The right way, for the right reasons. So how about it? You and me, a clean slate.”
His thumbs were doing delicious things to her wrist and palm. The air temperature might be close to freezing, but within her skin an inferno blazed. Her knees were wobbly.
“I want to do it right this time. Up front and out in the open.” He caught his lower lip in his teeth, looking thoughtful. “You hold an important place in this community. A lot of people look up to you.”
Hell of a time for him to worry about her reputation. “Um, thank you, I think.”
He chuckled. “I want people to look up to me, too. Especially the most important person. Jodi.”
Uncertain where this led, she drew warily aside, beyond the intoxicating influence of his scent and vibrant masculinity. When she withdrew her hand from his, her skin tingled, aching to reclaim his touch. “She does look up to you. She thinks you’re a hero.” She needed to tell him the truth. She needed to tell him now.
“How heroic would it be for us to sneak around?” Now solemn, he lowered his face. “Your uncle isn’t the only one who thinks I’m not good enough for you.”
“But—”
“Ah-ah, hear me out. I need to say this, for you to understand. When I was growing up, all I wanted was out of this place. I hated McClintock. I hated how people made me feel like a stray dog. Kids teased me about my mom, about not knowing my father. Teachers always expected the worst from me.”
“Oh, Ric, that doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. It’s why I thought I found a home in the army. A place where I was somebody. When I got hurt, I found out I was just a number, a broken cog in the big machine. They threw me away like so much garbage. Whoop-di-do, I get a retirement check. A monthly reminder about how much they don’t want me.”
All her life she’d known exactly where she belonged. She’d never doubted the love of her family, friends and community. She couldn’t conceive of feeling like a rootless outcast.
“I came home to McClintock because I had no where else to go. My only plan was, get better and beat it out of here. But things have changed. Now, when I walk into the hardware store, Paul calls me over to ask my opinion about hot-dipped nails or some new brand of wood putty. Every time old Mrs. Whitehorse sees me, she goes on and on about what a great job I did on her kitchen cabinets. Just the other day, Pastor Rimes personally invited me to attend church services.” His teeth gleamed. “Your mom calls me honey.”
“You’re a nice guy,” she murmured.
“I want to be more than that, Laney. I want to be good enough for you.”
“You are!”
“Good enough to walk hand-in-hand with you down Main Street. Good enough to sit next to you in church. Good enough so that when folks see us together, nobody is thinking you’re slumming with that Buchanan boy.”
She felt the chilly air now along with rising emotion. She didn’t know how he’d react if he knew she wasn’t good enough for him.
“I want to set a good example for Jodi. She’s growing up to be a beautiful young lady. We have to show her how she should be treated. She needs to see me treating you like the lady you are.”
If only he knew what unladylike thoughts were racing through her head. “I see.”
He touched a fingertip to her lower lip. Shivers raced up and down her spine. She wanted to tear off his tie and rip open his shirt and plant kisses all over his broad, beautiful chest. She wanted to tell him about Jodi. She couldn’t make herself do either.
“So, no more kissing until the third date. That’s properly respectful, right?”
He was killing her. The wicked twist of his smile proclaimed he was enjoying himself immensely. “You’re assuming,” she said tartly, “that there will be a second date.”
“Next Friday? A movie?”
“Okay.”
He shook her hand with exaggerated formality then stepped off the porch. “I’ll see you in church.” Whistling, he sauntered to his truck.
Not one kiss until the third date? She might burst into flames and explode before that happened.
ELAINE OPENED her eyes after the final prayer. She sat with her mother, Jodi and Uncle King in the McClintock family pew. It was at the very front of the Maya Valley Church of Christ. A place of honor for the family that had provided the stained glass windows, organ and marble altar.
People sidled out of pews. Pastor Rimes meandered toward the doors to make sure he had a word with every member of his congregation. Elaine leaned past her mother and smiled at her uncle. “May I speak to you for a minute, Uncle King?”
In uniform, he held his hat over his chest. He glared at her from the corner of his eye.
“It’ll only take a minute,” she said, sweetly.
“Come on with me, Jodi,” Lillian said. “I need to remind Pastor Rimes about reserving the meeting room.”
Elaine kept her voice down and her mouth smiling, but inside she seethed. “I will not stand for you harassing Ric Buchanan. Or making threats. Or threatening Walt.”
He opened his mouth, but she snapped up a hand to halt his speech. She smiled and nodded at a neighbor who called a greeting.
“I know you don’t like him. You might even think you have good reasons. But he’s a law-abiding citizen. I will not put up with you throwing your official weight around.”
“You best remember who you’re talking to, young lady.” His face was turning an alarming shade of purple.
“You best remember who you’re talking to,” she shot back. “If you want to play power games, I can play just as hard and dirty as you want.”
“I never—”
“Need I remind you that I’ve known every single member of the county commission and the town council all my life. Every one of them is a good friend. You don’t even want to go head-to-head with me over who has more pull in this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re threatening me? For that no-account boy?” He sneered. “Gonna sic your mama on me?”
“I don’t need to sic mama on you.”
“Don’t you see what’s going on here, honey?”
She crossed her arms. She thought she’d made it perfectly clear that she knew exactly what was going on. “I know that traffic stop last night was a total fabrication. If I hadn’t been with Ric, you’d have trumped up some charge to throw him in jail.”
“You’d be better off if he was in jail. He’s out for vengeance. He hated Del, always has. All his snooping around and riling Tom Greene is pure troublemaking. Trying to make our family look bad.”
Incredulous, she shook her head. If she were holding anything other than a Bible in her hand, she’d have smacked him with it.
“He’s the one driving that poor old man crazy. Is that what you want? Tom dead of a stroke? Gossips calling Del a mad dog killer?”
“Your investigation was shoddy, Uncle King.” Afraid she’d start shouting, she whispered. “That was my husband who was shot. My father who died trying to save him. But you do a better job investigating poachers. Tom has every right to question your ruling. So do I.”
He glanced at the people clustered near the church doors. “I know what happened at the lodge and it’s ugly, damn it.”
His admission startled her. “You do?”
“It wasn’t an accident. Is that what you want to hear? Huh? How about we catch up to Lillian and tell her, too? How about I get up in the pulpit and announce it to the whole dad-blamed town?” His ears had turned crimson and his eyes blazed. “I loved that damned Del. I loved Bobby, too. What happened makes just sick in the heart.” He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I know how bad you feel about losing Bobby. But how’s it going to make you feel better seeing in black-and-white that your daddy is a killer?”
His absolute certainty confused her and made her wary.
“I don’t know why Del did it. We’ll never know. I do know the law can’t take him to task for it. I do know it’ll break Lillian’s heart. It’ll tear this town in two. That would make Buchanan happy as a pig in mud.”
“You’re wrong.”
He leaned in close enough for her to smell Old Spice aftershave and breath mints. “You think I’m an old coot, going senile, not a lick of sense in my head. But I know people, honey. I know hombres like Buchanan. They twist things up and light little fires that start big conflagrations.”
“What if Daddy didn’t shoot Bobby?”
King snorted a wry laugh. “So who did? Santa Claus?” He slid his gaze toward the doors. His eyes narrowed and his mustache twitched. “Or could be some fellah with a grudge against Bobby. Now that I recollect, I got some witnesses that says Buchanan and Bobby had themselves a big old fight in the Track Shack right before Bobby was killed.”
She followed his gaze. Ric walked up the aisle. He wore a dark suit and tie. His tawny hair was neatly combed. He’d meant what he said about seeing her in church. He hesitated about halfway up the aisle, his expression questioning.
“You can’t be serious,” she whispered.
“Reckon it might not be such a bad thing to take another look at my ruling. I could have overlooked something. Like Buchanan having a motive for murder.” He tugged an end of his mustache, his grin sharky. “Yep, he might have been mad enough to go gunning for our boy. Now wouldn’t that be something?”
“Uncle King—”
“I got work to do, honey.” He nodded curtly and turned away. He strutted down the aisle. He nodded at Ric. “Nice to see you in church, boy. Scrub a few black marks off your soul.”
She turned her eyes to the wooden cross hanging behind the altar. Oh dear Lord, what have I done?
Ric joined her at the end of the pew. He watched King shaking hands with the pastor. “What was that all about?”
She sighed. “I told him to stop harassing you. He just promised me it’s going to get worse.”
“Huh.”
“I’m sorry, Ric.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, really? He threatened to produce witnesses who’ll testify you had a motive for murder. He’ll convince somebody to lie about you fighting with Bobby the day of the shooting.”
“I did fight with Bobby and there were witnesses.” He slid a hand around the nape of his neck. “We had an argument in the Track Shack.”
“About what? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t see what difference it makes.” He glanced at the back of the church again. King was gone. “At the time I couldn’t even walk, much less drive. I don’t own a handgun either. King is blowing smoke.”
“What were you fighting about?”
He took her hand. “Give it a rest.” He squeezed her fingers. “Your mother invited Walt and me to have lunch at the ranch. I was wondering if I could make a detour first with Jodi. Erles Harbaugh is selling his daughter’s show horse. He said I could come by and take a look today.”
She wanted to know what Bobby and Ric would have to fight about. They’d made their peace about her and Bobby’s marriage years ago. Ric had only been in town a day or two, so they hadn’t had an opportunity to get on each other’s nerves.
“Why don’t you come, too?” he asked. “It’ll be fun.”
Jodi came skipping up the aisle. “Mom! Grandma invited Mr. Walt and Ric to lunch. Come on, Grandma’s waiting at the car.”
Elaine looked between her daughter and Ric. Jodi wore a skirt she’d received last Christmas; already it was too short. She seemed to be growing an inch a day. A beautiful young lady who needed a good example as to how to be treated like a lady. Ric acted more like a concerned parent than a mere friend.
Ric Buchanan is back in town…how would he like knowing what you really did to him?
He knew. Call it intuition, call it a hunch. Whatever it was, she knew without a doubt that he knew he was Jodi’s father. He and Bobby had argued because of it.
“Well?” Ric asked.
“Lunch will be waiting,” she said. “How about if we look at the horse afterward?”
“What horse?” Jodi asked. “The Morgan?”
“I spoke to Mr. Harbaugh earlier,” Ric said.
“You know that horse, Mommy. Sue Harbaugh rode him in pleasure trials. Don’t you think he’d be just perfect for Ric?”
“Could be. We can look at it after lunch.”
Jodi tugged Ric by the hand toward the door. Elaine followed them out of the church and into the sunshine. A fool’s gold day with a blinding blue sky and a wicked wind that dropped the temperature into the thirties. She turned her face to the wind, letting it cut across her cheeks and clear her thoughts.
Ric knew. He’d argued with Bobby because he knew.
Sunday lunch at the ranch turned into its usual noisy affair. Along with Ric and his uncle, they were joined by the ranch manager, his wife and their three children, and a pair of ranch hands who were so shy around Lillian it was almost painful to watch their fumbling and mumbling.
While the gathering ate pot roast and new potatoes, Marlee telephoned from college. Elaine could tell from Lillian’s side of the conversation that her little sister was in a panic over upcoming final exams. Lillian finally convinced her middle child that the stress wasn’t going to kill her, and she didn’t have a brain tumor. She would actually pass her finals and graduate on schedule.
Somehow, Elaine managed to eat and talk and laugh.
After lunch, Elaine said, “I need to change my clothes before we look at horses. Ric, would you walk over to the house with me?” Lillian gave Elaine a questioning look. Elaine pretended not to notice.
On the way to her house, Ric worked off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He rolled the tie and stuck it in his jacket pocket. In her kitchen, Ric asked, “What’s going on, Laney?”
She was shaking inside. “Have a seat. I have something to show you.”
She walked t
o her bedroom, but slowly, studying the white on white striped paper she’d put up in the hallway. Groups of framed photographs hung on the walls. She passed Jodi’s room where her unmade bed was piled with stuffed animals and clothes. This house had been a wedding gift from her parents. She and Bobby had turned it into a home.
She didn’t regret a minute of her marriage. She regretted the lie it was based on, and the pain it had caused Ric. If she had to do it all over again, however, under the same circumstances, she would.
Still, if she were wrong, and Ric didn’t know about Jodi, what she was about to do could destroy their relationship.
Her hands trembled as she reached into the back of her lingerie drawer and found the envelope. A sudden impulse to slam and lock her bedroom door, to hide, held her frozen for a moment. She had to do this. Ric deserved better than lies. Bobby deserved better than having her conceal evidence because she was a big fat coward.
She slipped off her pumps. In stocking feet she returned to the kitchen. She placed the envelope in front of Ric.
Her throat choked up and her eyes burned with impending tears. The urge to cry confused her. She pinched the bridge of her nose. When he unfolded the note, she turned away and hugged her aching belly.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
She opened her mouth and a sob escaped. She gulped hard until she could speak. “Bobby’s pants pocket. The day before the funeral. For the longest time I thought Daddy had written it. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t have. That’s what you and Bobby were fighting about, isn’t it? Who told you about Jodi? Who killed my husband to shut him up?”
She ripped a paper towel off a roll and jammed it against her eyes. Ric touched her back. All she could do was shake her head.
“It’s all right, Laney.”
She blew her nose and scrubbed her eyes. “It’s not all right! What you said last night…it touched me, Ric. It really did. I want so much to start fresh, to be with you again. Truth is, I’m not worthy of you. I don’t deserve your respect.”
He gently turned her around. He seemed so calm and accepting.
