Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  Anna dipped a disposable wand into a tube and murmured, “Perhaps old Bram has met his match.”

  Lynne bristled. “How so?”

  “Oh, it’s a compliment. Close,” she ordered. “I’m just sayin’ a woman needs to be more direct with a man like Bram. He’s a stubborn and bullheaded creature. I mean, if the separation didn’t open his eyes.”

  Lynne only caught one word. “Separation?”

  Anna tsked and reached for a cotton swab. She dipped the tip in make-up remover and bent to repair the damage done. “Well, yes. Bram didn’t tell you Susan left him?”

  “No.” She caught sight of the tip of Anna’s pink tongue caught between white teeth. Lowering her lashes, she tried to breathe through her nose when the woman leaned closer.

  “Look up, darlin’.” Anna brandished the mascara wand again. “She ran off to Dallas to live with her sister a few months before she took sick.”

  Lynne stared at the ceiling, focusing on the pale brown water stain in the corner. “She did?”

  Anna gave a dubious little snort. “I think the problems started after Willie graduated. Susie got the itch, you know? She wanted to go places, do more. Of course, Bram dug his heels in. He wasn’t going anywhere. Like a mule.” She swept a coat of mascara along Lynne’s lower lashes. “Close again. I always think two coats works best.”

  She did as she was told, trying to ignore the staccato beat of her heart and breathing through her nose to calm her swirling thoughts.

  “Bram didn’t bother going after her until Sarah called him. I guess ‘lymphoma’ was the magic word for him. After all, it was Sarah who hauled Susie off to the doctors for tests, not Bram.” She dipped the wand. “Look up again.”

  She stared at the ceiling, but even the water stain couldn’t ground her. “So he brought her home.”

  Another brisk nod confirmed her suspicions. “Actually, I think she was relieved. I guess when something like that happens you want what you know, right?”

  Everything Anna said chipped away at the image she’d formed of Bram’s happy marriage. The fact that he didn’t bother to fight for his wife’s love troubled her more than she cared to admit. “Right.”

  “Not that she had much choice.” She dragged the wand along the tiny lashes beneath her eyes. The pointed tips of Anna’s fingernails threatened to pierce the skin under her chin as she tipped her face up to inspect her handiwork. “Don’t you give in. Stand your ground.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The woman shrugged then lowered her hand to reach for a handheld mirror. “Nothing.” She twirled the mirror’s plastic handle and held it steady. “Just don’t wait until it’s too late to make him see who you are like poor Susie did.”

  Afraid to meet her own gaze, she kept her eyes locked on Anna’s inscrutable expression. “Too late?”

  She gave the mirror an impatient waggle. “The man has something about him. He’s always had a kind of gruff, grumbly charm—in spades.”

  Lynne lowered her gaze to her reflection and gasped. She raised her fingertips to her cheek, smoothing the warm peach blush heightening her cheekbones. Her eyes popped, deftly shadowed and smudged, burning vibrant blue against the muted tones.

  “Wow.”

  Anna smiled, and she was stunned by its genuine warmth. “You seem like the type who likes the natural look.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She gripped the mirror’s handle, admiring the minor miracle the woman had wrought. “You’re very talented.”

  She chuckled and reached for two more tubes. “You don’t need to sound so surprised. This is my business, after all. A little lipstick and you’ll be done.” She lowered the mirror, parting her lips gamely as Anna began to apply color with a tiny brush. “Make sure he gives you a fair price.”

  “Price?”

  “Everyone knows Bram’s wanted this farm since Miss Corrine died. Don’t let him charm the pants and the farm off you,” she said, slathering the sheen of sticky gloss over the color she’d applied.

  Her gaze shot to Anna’s face. The smug smile on tilting crimson lips made her gut clench. She stared at the other woman, refusing to flinch. “Of course not,” she managed to murmur.

  Anna began gathering tubes, pots, and bottles, carelessly tossing them into her black case. “Bram can be awful persuasive when he wants something. Lord, I love a determined man.”

  Her brittle laugh bounced off the walls. Lynne clamped her mouth shut and gulped the lump in her throat as Anna plucked a few color brochures from the pocket of the case.

  “Now, I’m not here to give you the hard sell. Not my style. You wear that pretty new face around for the day and see what your beau thinks. Give me a jingle if you want anything. I noted all the colors I used on the back,” she said, nodding to a brochure.

  “Anna—”

  The other woman smiled and patted her shoulder. “I have to run. Enjoy the coffee cake.”

  The clatter of Anna’s heels on the hardwood floors was dulled by the roar of blood in her head. The front door slammed and the brochures slid to the floor unheeded. Panic clawed at her throat.

  Bram didn’t need her. He needed her cooperation.

  Her ponytail brushed the edge of the table when she doubled over. She pressed her perfectly painted face to the rough denim between her calves and gulped for air.

  He doesn’t want her. He wants the farm. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

  Chapter Twenty

  The muscles in Bram’s shoulders sang out disapproval. He rolled his neck, letting the warm sunshine soothe the aches. Jerry Johnson waved as he exited the post office. Bram lifted a hand to return the wave but didn’t break stride. He kept his eyes focused on the general store, not wanting to invite conversation.

  Double A batteries, duct tape, and rubber bands. He muffled a chuckle as his shopping list repeated in his head. Sounds like the props for a bad porno flick.

  Chores at the hatchery filled his morning and he was glad for the work. He’d powered through his routine at the farm then drove into town on autopilot. Something was off. A niggling itch at the base of his skull made his skin prickle. Even though he’d held Lynne pressed against him all night, distance seemed to stretch between them.

  He was baffled. Dinner went well. As well as could be expected. She seemed to like his family. Even Willie. The two women in his life appeared to have reached an understanding by the time the pies were cut, but something somewhere along the line went wrong. Bram just wasn’t sure what.

  She was tired. We were both tired. She didn’t want me poking around in her head. Or anywhere else, for that matter. The front door to the market swung open. Percy Jenkins stepped through, clutching a Styrofoam box.

  “Hey, Percy.”

  “Bram,” the other man replied with a nod and stepped nimbly into his path.

  “Lunch?”

  “Chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Listen, Bram, I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  Bram nodded again, but his thoughts were way ahead of him. Double A batteries, duct tape, and rubber bands. Maybe the market still has those mixed bouquets by the register.

  “The appraiser hasn’t heard from her,” Percy continued.

  “Huh?”

  “I gave her his number when she came to pick up the keys, but when I talked to him this morning, Alvin didn’t have the farm on his list.”

  “The farm?”

  “The Burdock place. You are still interested, aren’t you?”

  “Well, uh, yeah—”

  “I figured you were. Maybe you can convince her to get moving.”

  “Moving?”

  “I’d like to get it listed this month. The market’s gonna start picking up now that the weather is turning.”

  “Listed?”

  The realtor raised his bushy eyebrows with a suggestive leer. “Unless you’re trying to get in before she decides to list it.”

  His jaw tightened
. “I need to get back to work.”

  “I don’t suppose you can give her a little nudge? Get her to make a decision one way or another?”

  The jerk actually winked at him, and Bram had a flashback to high school. As the captain of the basketball team, Percy thought he was the big man in school. He’d also had his eye on Susan. His fingers curled into a fist. “She’ll do what she wants to do when she wants to do it.”

  Percy grinned. “A live one, huh?”

  He glowered at the other man. “Ms. Prescott will make her decision when she’s damn good and ready.”

  “I’ll talk to her about it again. Be warned—I’m going to advise her not to accept any offer until we get an appraisal. The land alone has to be worth much more than it was when Miss Corrine died.”

  “Good luck convincing her,” Bram muttered through clenched teeth.

  “Stubborn?”

  “Let’s just say she has her own ideas about things.”

  Percy gave his head a shake. “Yankees.”

  The man’s smug superiority made Bram smirk. “Yeah, Yankees. You know they’ll believe about anything. Tell her you know a guy who wants to turn it into a free-range chicken farm.”

  A perplexed frown creased Percy’s too-high forehead. “You wanna raise free-range chickens?”

  “She likes chickens. You know, she thinks she had a couple of ballsy chicks bust their way right out of her house.”

  “She does?”

  “Yep. There’s your angle. See you later, Percy.”

  Percy caught his arm as he tried to scoot past. “All jokin’ aside, I was hoping you’d use your, uh…influence with her, Bram.”

  “What makes you think I have any influence on her?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, so you have lost your touch. Too bad. I guess Susie was a fluke.”

  Bram jerked his arm from Percy’s grasp and ignored the taunting laugh that followed him down the sidewalk.

  ****

  Lynne tried to ignore the twisting, churning morass of fear and confusion that coiled her insides into a knot. She hadn’t stopped to plan what she’d say or do. She didn’t have room for reason amidst the memories that snaked their way into her head.

  I am your father’s heir apparent.

  She tried in vain to banish Richard’s voice from her head as she slowed to a stop at the crossroads.

  I’ve been named Chief of Staff.

  She forced herself to check the traffic in each direction before flooring the gas.

  I’ve fallen in love with Cara.

  The laugh she let slip when her husband said those words still threatened to strangle her again. Her fingers wound around the wheel. Her knuckles glowed white against her skin.

  I want a divorce.

  She let up on the gas, coasting past the grain elevator that marked the entrance to Heartsfield.

  I’m not sure I ever loved you.

  Her heartbeat slowed to a dull thud. She pressed the brake, hoping to halt her thoughts as the stop sign rushed to meet her. She cast a longing glance toward the business district but chickened out. Turning away from the shops, she wound her way through the streets named for fruits instead.

  You didn’t know they were expecting?

  The memory of her friend Melanie’s incredulous tone made her gut twist. Lynne jerked the wheel, screeching to a stop near the crumbling curb. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead in a vain attempt to block the memory of Melanie’s questions.

  “No,” she whispered, choking on a sob. “How could I know? It was impossible.” Bracketing her cheeks with her palms, she tried to dampen the burning humiliation that scorched her face.

  Bram said he’d be at the store most of the day. She forced herself to raise her head and stared through the bug-splattered windshield, swiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. He only wanted one thing from me, and he got it. She bit her lip, drawing blood in exchange for fighting back a fresh flow of tears.

  I can’t listen to Anna. She wants him. He doesn’t want her. She’s jealous.

  She took a bracing breath and sat back in her seat, locking her elbows and wringing the steering wheel.

  Bram’s not like Richard. This isn’t about the farm. He wouldn’t do that.

  She clenched her jaw in stubborn determination, pulled from the curb, and sped toward the town square. Drawing to a stop at Main Street, she glanced to her left then her right. That’s when she spotted them.

  Bram and Percy Jenkins stood on the sidewalk in front of the market engrossed in what appeared to be intense negotiation.

  Thumping her hand to her heart, she tried to beat back the flame of humiliation burning in her chest. She sat there long enough to see Bram step past her realtor and hurry to the door of Walters’ Mercantile before she cranked the wheel and pulled a U-turn in the middle of Main Street.

  The squeal of her tires caused the skinny Sheriff’s deputy on the corner to jump back. Lynne glanced into the rearview mirror and muttered, “Come and get me, Barney Fife.”

  ****

  The bell almost jangled from its moorings when the door slammed shut. Willene rose from behind the counter, her dark brows winging for her hairline. “You know the rules—you break it, you buy it.”

  “Double A batteries, duct tape, and rubber bands,” Bram growled in response.

  She laughed. “If you weren’t my daddy, I’d make an obscene joke right now.”

  He crossed to the counter and planted his hands flat on the worn wooden surface. “I am your daddy, so you’ll keep your smart mouth shut,” he said in a deep, authoritative tone.

  An uncertain smirk lifted one corner of her mouth. “Whoa! What happened to you? Wake up on the wrong side of Ms. Prescott’s bed?”

  The flat of his palm hit the counter with a resounding thud. “No. You will not say those things to me, and you will not talk about her that way.”

  She took a step back, her jaw dropping as she stared at him. He glowered at her, steeling himself against his daughter’s wounded glare and trembling scowl. He grimaced when she threw her shoulders back and tipped her chin up. “What did you need again?” she asked coolly.

  “Willie….”

  “Double A batteries,” she snapped, grabbing a package from the rack near the register and tossing them on the counter. “You know where the duct tape is, and rubber bands are with the school supplies. I’ll put them on your account.”

  She stomped toward the back room, and he followed her, as expected. He stopped in the doorway. Willene faced the blank wall, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “Baby,” he murmured, and she stiffened. He placed his hands on her shoulders and the muscles tensed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

  The silence stretched between them. “About what?” she asked at last.

  “About any of this.” When she nipped out from under his grasp, he sighed again. “People are flapping their gums, your grandma keeps pushing and you keep pulling.”

  She turned to face him, running him through with her piercing blue gaze. “Do you love her?”

  Yes.

  He pressed his lips together, desperate to keep the answer to her terrifying question to himself a little longer. “I…I think I care about her. A lot.” His shoulders rose in a helpless shrug. “I haven’t known her very long.”

  “No, you haven’t.” Willene tilted her head. “She makes you laugh.”

  A rogue smile broke through the tight rein he tried to hold on his emotions. “She does.”

  “I like seeing you laugh.”

  He reached out to stroke his little girl’s tousled curls. “I want you to like her.”

  She gave him a shy smile. “She’s nice.”

  “She is.”

  She brushed some dust from the shoulder of his shirt. “She better treat you right.” His smile widened, and he allowed himself to bask in her fussing for one minute. “Remember what you told me when Bobby gave me this ring?” she asked, waggling her fingers in
front of his eyes.

  “The bit about a shotgun shell with his name on it?”

  “Yeah.” She nestled into the crook of his neck, just as she had when she was a baby. “Same goes.”

  “I’ll warn her.”

  “Make sure you do.”

  He gave her a tight squeeze. Resting his chin atop the nest of dark curls, he exhaled slowly. “Tell me where the duct tape is again.”

  “Notions aisle.”

  His cell phone vibrated. Bram set her away from him and dug into his jeans pocket as he started for the storefront. “Oughta be in hardware,” he called over his shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lynne didn’t want to think. Thinking led to trouble. Too much thinking led to memories, and at the moment memories of the past were twisted into a jumble with the here and now. She had to focus on other things. More practical things—like getting the hell out of Heartsfield, Arkansas.

  It took only ten minutes to make her calls to the real estate appraiser recommended by Percy Jenkins, then to the realtor himself. The next quarter hour was spent tossing her belongings into her suitcase and scouring the house for anything she might have left behind.

  She slammed the back door behind her and dropped the house keys into the basket of clothespins. She stared straight ahead as she lumbered down the steps, refusing to even glance at the unfinished planks dotting the porch. The reinforced corners of her suitcase banged against her thigh.

  That’s gonna leave a bruise.

  A plastic garbage bag filled with wet jeans wrapped around her left hand and cut into her skin, its heavy burden abusing her left shin. I need to find a Laundromat, or a hotel with a laundry room.

  She hobbled toward the SUV parked under the tree and dropped both bags to the ground. A puff of dust rose on impact. Clucking chickens chupped their displeasure, scattering in the yard.

  Lynne stopped and stared at the four plump brown hens pecking their way through the scrubby grass, her mouth agape. She spun, her glare focusing like a laser on the makeshift pen her hens had called home. A part of her was shocked the mangled metal didn’t smolder from the heat of the frustration rising inside of her. But it didn’t. Like everything else in this slow-moving town, the rusted chicken wire waved languidly in the spring breeze.