by B. J Daniels
He saw that she had a small basket. In it were crackers and a wedge of cheese. He realized that there might be some truth to her story. It made more sense than what he’d been thinking, that was for sure.
“I personally am not that interested in fossils,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure you’ve been to the museum.”
“Yes.” He’d forgotten how small and delicate she was. A wisp of a woman. Certainly no threat. And certainly no reporter or private investigator. Just a lonely widow with a lot of time on her hands.
“I think you’ll enjoy it,” he said, realizing just how unreliable his instincts were since hearing of his mother’s death—and all the news that followed. “The other museum is just across the parking lot. It has a lot of Montana history. That might be more to your liking.”
“Thank you. I’ll make sure I see it.”
“Well, enjoy your visit,” he said and got back in line. Ava disappeared down the aisle. Once outside, he climbed behind the wheel of the SUV, started the engine and glanced back.
Had he expected to see Ava Carris watching him from inside the store?
She was nowhere in sight.
Shaking off his earlier crazy thoughts about her stalking him, he drove away.
Chapter Four
Ava knew it was just a matter of time before her sister found out she hadn’t flown to Seattle as she’d planned. She’d seen the message this morning when she’d checked her cell phone, but she’d been avoiding calling her sister back.
A mistake. It would only make Evie more determined to know what was going on. The last thing she needed was her sister butting into things. Now, still shaken after running into Jace Dennison, Ava moved to the back of the store and dug out her cell phone, deciding the best way to head off trouble was to call Evie back.
She and Evie were so close they could finish each others’ sentences. She’d always feared that Evie could read her thoughts. That fear was realized when Evie answered on the first ring and demanded, “Who is he?”
“It isn’t always about a man,” she said defensively.
“With you it is. You’re going to make a fool of yourself.”
“No. It isn’t like that.”
“So, what is it like?” her sister asked snidely.
Ava wasn’t sure.
Evie heard her hesitate. “Where are you? I’m coming there.”
“No. I need to be on my own for a while.”
“John wouldn’t want you to be alone.”
She hated it when Evie brought up John. She missed him so much. “I’m not alone. I have to go. Please, just stay away.”
John hadn’t liked it when Evie had shown up shortly after they’d gotten married. She was always there, butting in, causing trouble.
“She’s my sister. What do you want me to do?” Ava used to plead with him.
“I can’t deal with you and your sister.” He would storm off, and she would plead with Evie to give her some space.
But would Evie listen?
“Ava?” Evie had that patient tone that meant she wasn’t going to give up. “Tell me where you are. You know I’ll find you. Why make it more difficult for me and put me in a foul mood when I see you?”
She sighed, knowing it was true. She could never get away from Evie. It had always been that way.
“I’m in Whitehorse, Montana, but I don’t want you to come here.” Evie wouldn’t like what she was doing. “Please, Evie.”
She hung up and remembered the quart of orange juice she’d seen Jace Dennison had in his grocery basket. She could almost taste it as she found the refrigerated aisle and bought herself a quart of juice just like his.
VIRGINIA WINCHESTER HAD always thought that her life would have been so different if her baby had lived.
But in reality she wasn’t all that convinced things would have turned out for the better.
The father of her baby hadn’t jumped at marrying her when she’d told him she was pregnant. She’d been convinced he would, though, once the baby was born and he saw his precious son.
Jordan McCormick never even saw the baby before the son they’d conceived had died. Nor had he attended the funeral.
At the time, Virginia had blamed his mother for keeping him away. Now she wondered if he’d known what his mother had done and that the baby Virginia had buried wasn’t his. Wasn’t it possible he’d known all along that Marie Dennison was raising his child?
That would mean that Joanna McCormick had told her son that she’d paid someone to switch the babies.
Virginia felt a surge of anger and frustration at the thought. Maybe everyone had known but her. Now there was no way of knowing. Jordon had died in a ranching accident not long after that, and his mother was in prison, not talking after a plea bargain that got her life instead of the death sentence.
Jordan, Virginia now realized, would have never married her. His mother wouldn’t have allowed it—just as her own mother had told her.
And even if he’d gotten up the gumption to stand up to his mother and do right by Virginia, she knew Joanna would never have allowed her son to stay on the ranch, let alone live there with Virginia and the baby.
Just as Virginia’s own mother would never have allowed her and Jordan on the Winchester ranch. Joanna McCormick and Pepper Winchester hated each other. Virginia knew only what she’d heard through the county grapevine, but apparently her mother had been in love with Joanna’s husband, Hunt McCormick.
Nothing had come of it, but still all that bad blood had spilled over onto their children.
Jordan had never been strong enough to stand up to his mother. Virginia wasn’t any better with her own mother. So what would have happened to her and her son?
Any way she looked at it, Virginia knew she would have ended up raising their son alone. She had barely been able to take care of herself when her mother had thrown all of them off the ranch three years later.
She had seen how her brothers had struggled without money or a place to live after growing up being taken care of on the Winchester ranch. They’d been forced to get jobs just as Virginia had. At least she hadn’t had a baby to support and care for, as well.
Her mother had asked her why she’d come back here. It wasn’t out of love for her mother. She hadn’t known why she’d come back.
Pepper was convinced it was for the Winchester money, but then her mother always thought the worst of her children. Except for her youngest son, Trace.
Virginia had never known what it was like to love a child so much that you could turn your back on everything and everyone else, including your other children.
Or love a child so much that when you lost him you would lock yourself away for twenty-seven years as her mother had done.
Virginia had never known that kind of love. Not for the child she thought she’d lost or for the man she’d thought she loved enough to have a child with him.
But like her mother, she’d let the past keep her isolated in other ways from the world.
And now to find out that her child hadn’t died. That her son was alive and well and in town….
She had to see him, she thought as she dressed for the funerals of Marie and Audie Dennison. She knew no one in town would expect her to attend. She didn’t know Marie or her brother.
But she wanted to see her son.
THE WEATHER CHANGED THE night before the funeral. Jace woke to dull skies and a wind that whipped the bare branches on the cottonwoods outside the guest bedroom.
He’d grown up in this house, knew every creak and groan, but now it felt too quiet. Not that he believed in ghosts, but he now had the strange feeling that he wasn’t alone here.
That kind of thinking made him all too aware that he wasn’t himself. He’d actually thought Ava Carris had followed him to Whitehorse.
He showered and went downstairs to put on the coffee. From the refrigerator he took out the quart of orange juice he’d bought at the store, unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. As he put it back in t
he fridge, he saw a pickup coming up the road.
He didn’t recognize it, but then why should he? He’d been gone so long no one drove the same rigs they had. To his surprise, Kayley Mitchell climbed out and walked toward the house.
Glancing down, he realized that he was wearing only jeans, his chest and feet bare. He thought about making a run upstairs to get a shirt, but she was already at the door. What did she want? He swore. He was about to find out.
Moving toward the door in anticipation of her knock, he heard her put something down, then turn and go back down the steps. He started to open the door, but she was already sliding behind the wheel of her truck.
He stared after her as she drove off, wondering why she hadn’t bothered to knock. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to see him. Jace was thankful for that. It would have been awkward, to say the least.
Still, it seemed odd, and he waited until her pickup turned onto the highway at the end of the drive and disappeared before he opened the door to see what she’d left.
A note was taped to the foil covering the casserole dish lying just outside the door.
This used to be your favorite. I hope it still is.
Kayley
One whiff of the casserole brought with it a wave of memories that threatened to drown him. Kayley used to make this all the time for him back when they were engaged. She’d gotten the recipe from his mother. Marie, he corrected with a scowl as he brought the dish inside and closed the front door.
It wasn’t long before more people began to arrive with food. Fortunately, he’d gotten dressed after Kayley left. He’d forgotten how the community came together when there was a death.
“A lot of people loved your mother,” a neighbor told him when she dropped off chicken and dumpings and a pan of brownies.
“Marie will be missed,” the woman said, her voice breaking.
Jace couldn’t help feeling touched by their love and generosity. But what was he supposed to do with all this food? They must think he was staying around for a while. The thought made him reach for the phone book.
He dialed a local Realtor, a girl named Clare whom he’d gone to school with, and had her list the two houses and the land. “I’ll also need to sell off the livestock, so maybe you know someone I could talk to about that?”
She did. But she wasn’t encouraging about selling the place quickly. “I’m afraid not much is selling right now,” Clare told him.
“Just get me what you can,” he said and hung up as another neighbor drove up. He went out to help her carry in fried chicken and potato salad.
At least he wouldn’t go hungry.
AT THE CEMETERY, WIND whipped what leaves hadn’t already blown away. They scattered across the neatly mowed yellowed grass, making a rustling sound as the bare cottonwood limbs groaned overhead.
The air smelled of fall as Jace climbed out of his pickup. It was a scent like no other he’d experienced since he’d left here and added to the nostalgic melancholy he’d been feeling since his return.
A crowd had already gathered around the grave sites. He was thankful that he’d opted for a graveside ceremony only. He knew he couldn’t have taken being closed in by all the people crammed in the mortuary building.
He couldn’t believe he was burying his mother and uncle. He didn’t give a damn what anyone said, but he would always think of Marie as his mother. He didn’t care if the sheriff had DNA proof. He sure as hell wasn’t a Winchester, nor would he ever be one.
As he started toward the two covered holes that had been dug in the ground after the earth had been heated enough to dig, Jace tried not to think about any of it. All he had to do was get through this day.
He thought of his mother. She’d finally gotten him home. He felt his eyes burn, his heart aching. If only he could have gotten home in time to see her just once more before she died.
He had no doubt what she would have wanted to tell him. The thought broke his heart. He knew he wouldn’t have handled her deathbed confession well and was thankful it hadn’t happened.
It had been enough of a shock to hear it from the sheriff. This way, he would never know just how much Marie had known about the baby switch or if she’d had a part in it. And she would never know how angry he was with her and his uncle for keeping this secret from him all these years.
As the caskets were removed from the hearses, he watched his uncle’s being lifted and thought of Audie. Everyone always said he would have done anything for his older sister. Well, he’d proved that, Jace thought.
The attendants were removing his mother’s casket when he felt himself stop walking before reaching the crowd.
He couldn’t do this. A man who could face a band of drug runners single-handedly or drop from a plane into a jungle full of wild animals and terrorists, and here he was afraid of facing his own mother’s funeral. Or at least the woman he’d thought was his mother.
Out of nowhere, Kayley appeared at his side.
“It’s going to be all right,” she said quietly, as if sensing his urge to run like hell.
Not sensing, he thought. This woman, like no other, knew him.
He looked over at her, surprised she could show him any kindness at all. Didn’t she realize that by being here with him, she’d get every tongue in town wagging about what a fool she was to forgive a bastard like him?
“I don’t have to go with you if you’d rather—”
“Please.” It was all he could say. All he had to say.
She took his arm.
His reaction to her touch surprised him. It was light, and yet he felt it through his Western-cut suit jacket, felt it clear to his heart.
She glanced at his boots, and he saw her try to hide a smile. He’d dug out his Western boots and suit to wear today. It had felt right. Maybe at heart he was still the cowboy who’d grown up in Montana rodeoing, riding fences and raising cattle.
Jace felt the sea of faces as he moved toward the open graves, Kayley at his side. She started to leave him when they reached his spot near the preacher, but he took her hand, and she stayed.
His mother’s pastor gave the sermon, talking about Marie and what a wonderful, giving woman she’d been. Jace felt a deep sense of pride, thankful for this woman who’d raised him even if she hadn’t been his birth mother.
The pastor said a few words about Audie and the love he had for his sister and how God would forgive him. He wondered if the woman whose mother and aunt Audie had murdered would forgive his uncle.
When it was over, a stream of people came up to tell him how sorry they were. Many of the women were crying and told him how Marie had touched their lives. At some point, the crowd finally began to disperse.
“I’ll let you be alone with her,” Kayley said and was gone.
He stood looking up at the branches whipping in the wind overhead for a long while before he glanced down at the graves. “Whatever you did,” he whispered, “I forgive you.”
When he looked up, he saw her.
Wearing a black dress, Ava Carris stood beside a large old cottonwood at the back at the edge of the cemetery. Their eyes met across the rows of gravestones. She instantly turned to leave.
Before Jace could react, a woman stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“I’m sorry. I…I just wanted to pay my respects,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said distractedly as he watched Ava Carris get into her silver SUV and drive away. So she came to the funeral. There was no law against that. She was just paying her respects. So why did seeing her send a shaft of ice up his spine?
He turned back to the woman before him, finally focusing on her. She was in her early fifties, tall with dark hair, eyes as black as his own and striking features that kept her from being what was considered pretty.
Jace felt a small tremor course through him.
“I just wanted…” Her voice trailed off.
He felt a lump form in his throat.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated and quickly tu
rned away.
He stared after her, knowing he’d just come face to face with Virginia Winchester. His birth mother.
ON THE WAY BACK TO THE house, Jace swung by the liquor store and bought himself a bottle of whiskey. His plan was to get stinking drunk, something he never did, but the occasion seemed to call for it.
He poured himself a drink in one of his mom’s jelly glasses in the kitchen and wandered through the deathly quiet house. He tried turning on the television but quickly turned it off. He’d gone months without seeing a television and realized he could probably go a lot longer.
As he took a drink of the whiskey, he shuddered involuntarily. Memories came at him like poison darts.
Kayley. She’d saved his bacon today at the funeral. She’d known how much he needed her, and she’d stood by his side even when he hadn’t stood by her when she’d needed him the most. She’d been there with the whole town knowing what he’d done to her.
The woman had more courage than he did.
Damn. He had never deserved her. Why did she have to be so nice to him? It only made him feel worse. Or maybe that was her plan. As if Kayley could ever be vindictive.
He finished his drink, unable to sit still, and realized he couldn’t stay in this house any longer. Putting down his glass, he rushed upstairs to the guest room to pack. The funeral was over. He’d tell his Realtor to call him when the property sold. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to come back to sign the papers. She could just fax everything to wherever he was.
The guest bedroom door was ajar, and for a moment he couldn’t remember leaving it that way. But he didn’t think too much about it as he pushed open the door. He couldn’t be sure of anything.
His suitcase wasn’t where he’d left it.
It took him a moment, though. Had he moved it without thinking? No.
He realized that anyone could have walked right in. No one in Whitehorse locked their doors. Hell, he wouldn’t even know where his mother kept the keys.
When he’d come into the house, he hadn’t paid any attention, but now he ran back downstairs. He immediately noticed something he hadn’t seen when he’d come in.
Someone had left one of those small fake Christmas trees in a corner of the living room. Under it was a wrapped present.
