Emily And The Stranger

by Beverly Barton

  “Her uncle said she was scarred for life.” Zed glanced down at the scrap of pink Mitch held between his thumb and forefinger, took a deep breath and looked directly into Mitch’s bleary eyes.

  Hot, salty bile rose in Mitch’s throat. Emily had been injured, trapped and in pain. He never had been able to erase the image from his mind of her still body draped over the fireman’s shoulder.

  Mitch Hayden hadn’t cried since he was a little boy. Men didn’t cry. Certainly not tough guys like him. No matter how deeply hurt he was, he didn’t cry.

  Zed Banning looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to see Mitch’s face.

  Agony consumed Mitch when he suddenly realized why Emily seemed to have reservations about a sexual relationship. The scars on her back! Dear God, she didn’t want any man to see her scars.

  Clutching the scrap of Emily’s pink nightgown in his hand, Mitch stood up and walked toward the front door. Zed didn’t follow him. Mitch closed the door softly behind him.

  Outside, the sky was clear, the air crisp, the sun bright. After slipping the scrap of pink cloth back into his wallet, Mitch put on his helmet, swung his leg over his Harley and rode off down the road.

  Tears blurred his vision. He opened his mouth on a silent scream and tasted his own tears as they streamed down his cheeks, down his nose and into his mouth. After running away from what had happened five years ago, he’d thought nothing could ever hurt him again, that he had sunk as low as a man could sink and still be alive. He’d been wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for the agony he felt now, as he realized that once again, he was responsible for Emily’s suffering. His greed and stupidity had not only cost Emily her husband and unborn child, but had put her through ungodly physical and mental suffering. He had taken Emily’s life away from her.

  And he had been so damn sure he could find a way to redeem himself in her eyes, that he could make her understand that he, too, had been one of Randy Styles’s victims.

  But now he knew that there was no way she’d ever be able to forgive him, just as there was no way he’d ever be able to forgive himself.

  Emily stood in the doorway of her bedroom, staring at the damask chaise longue where she had spent the night in Mitch’s arms. No, not Mitch. M. R. Hayden. Mitchell Ray Hayden, the co-owner of Styles and Hayden Construction Company.

  “Em?” Nikki walked up behind her and placed her hand on Emily’s back. “What are you doing?”

  “I lay there in his arms all night long, pouring out my heartfelt hopes and dreams. I told him all about my Hannah books, about my relationship with Grammy, about how I’d always longed to have a child.” Emily choked on the tears lodged in her throat.

  “Come on in the kitchen and let me make us something to eat. It’s way past lunchtime.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Emily stepped over the threshold into her bedroom. “When Uncle Fowler told you who he was last night, why didn’t you call me?”

  Nikki waited in the hallway. “I didn’t know what to do. You were already falling in love with him. I hadn’t seen you so happy since... Before Mitch called this morning and told me about the break-in, I’d decided to keep my mouth shut and let Fowler be the bearer of bad tidings. Please, Em, I’m sorry I didn’t come over here and tell you last night. If I’d known what had happened and that Mitch would stay the night—”

  “It’s all right. It was my fault, not yours.”

  “No, it wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t even Mitch Hayden’s fault. If I blame anyone, I blame that awful Zed Banning. He’s the one who brought Mitch back to the Gulf.”

  “Zed Banning had no way of controlling Mitch’s actions. Mitch is the one who sought me out, rented a cottage next to mine and deliberately set out to gain my friendship.”

  Emily reached out, her hand hovering over the back of the chaise. Leaning down, she breathed in the smell of Mitch Hayden. A hard knot of pain formed in the pit of her stomach. She had never felt as safe and secure and cherished as she had last night.

  She ran her hand over the raised surface of the material covering the chaise. Would she ever be able to forget the feel of Mitch’s arms around her, of his lips against her neck, on her ear, in her hair? How long would she relive the pleasure and the pain of having fallen in love with the man whose construction firm was responsible for her husband’s and child’s deaths, and responsible for the scars that disfigured her back?

  “Don’t do this to yourself,” Nikki said.

  Emily sat down on the chaise. “I didn’t think anything could ever hurt me so much again. Not after losing Stuart and our child. But this... Oh, God, Nikki, I’m in love with Mitchell Hayden.” Covering her face with her hands, Emily sobbed quietly, her shoulders trembling.

  Nikki ran across the room, dropped to her knees beside the chaise and took Emily’s hands into her own. “I think he loves you, too, you know.”

  Swallowing her tears, Emily wiped her face with her fingers and looked at Nikki. “He knew who I was. He did this to me intentionally.”

  “Oh, Em, I don’t think Mitch is a terrible man. Not really. I have a feeling that he’s paid dearly for his part in the collapse of the Ocean Breeze Apartments.”

  “No matter how much he’s suffered, he can’t change the past and neither can L He can’t bring Stuart back. Or the baby. And he can’t erase the scars from my body.”

  “If he’d told you who he was that first day you met, what would you have done?” Nikki asked.

  “I don’t know. I suppose I would have talked to him, listened to what he had to say. But I never would have dated him. I never would have...”

  “But you were attracted to him.” Nikki squeezed Emily’s hands. “You aren’t a bitter person filled with hatred. You’re too kind and forgiving. If Mitch Hayden had come to you and asked for your forgiveness and understanding, what would you have done?”

  “I don’t know! I told you, didn’t I, that I read and reread the transcripts from the trial? I realize that M. R. Hayden wasn’t directly involved in any of his partner’s illegal dealings. I still hate Randall Styles. And sometimes I even hate M. R. Hayden, for not realizing sooner what his partner was doing. Soon enough to have saved Stuart and...”

  “You don’t hate Mitch,” Nikki said. “If you hated him, you wouldn’t be hurting this way.”

  “Maybe I don’t really hate M. R. Hayden. Not anymore. But at this precise moment, I do hate Mitch as much as I love him. I hate him for destroying my hopes of knowing love again, of trusting a man enough to consider allowing him to see my scarred body.”

  “Oh, Em.”

  Nikki and Emily both jumped when they heard the loud knocking at the front door. Nikki bolted straight up. Emily sat erect on the chaise.

  “What if it’s Mitch?”

  Nikki looked at Emily, questioning her.

  “I can’t see him. Not now.”

  “I’ll find out who it is, and if it’s Mitch, I’ll tell him you’re not ready to see him.”

  Emily bit down on her bottom lip. “And if Uncle Fowler has come back, let him in. Maybe I can make him understand why I don’t want to move back to Mobile with him.”

  “He was terribly upset that you plan to stay on here at the cottage,” Nikki said. “But when I told him I’d stay with you, he seemed to calm down a little.”

  Emily followed Nikki up the hallway, but stopped in the archway between the dining room and the living room. She watched while Nikki made her way through the rubble in the living-room floor and opened the front door.

  “Who are you?” Nikki demanded.

  “Zed Banning. Who are you?”

  “I can’t believe you’ve got the nerve to show your face around here, Zed Banning!”

  “Now, just calm down, little she-cat,” Zed said. “Retract your claws or I’ll cut them off.”

  “You arrogant bastard! How dare you play God with Emily’s and Mitch’s lives. Do you have any idea how much harm you’ve done?”

  Zed took a step inside, but found him
self blocked by Nikki’s petite body. “Who the hell are you, lady?”

  “I’m Nikki Griffin. Emily Jordan’s friend.”

  “Well, Nikki Griffin, move out of the way or I’ll pick you up and put you on my hip.”

  “You and what army?” Pointing her finger in Zed’s face, Nikki glared at him. “Emily’s been through enough today without having to listen to your weak excuses about why you sent Mitch Hayden into her life.”

  “This isn’t between you and me, Nikki Griffin. I want to speak with Ms. Jordan.”

  “Well, she doesn’t want to speak to you.”

  “Is that right, Ms. Jordan? Don’t you want to know why I brought Mitch back to the Gulf? Why I gave him a job when no one else would? Why he rented a cottage next door to you?”

  Emily stepped out from the shadows behind the archway. “Let him in, Nikki.”

  “Em, don’t you listen to a word this—”

  “Someone needs to muzzle you,” Zed told Nikki.

  “Come on back to the kitchen,” Emily said. “My living room isn’t fit for company.”

  Stepping around the debris on the floor, Zed followed Nikki through the living room, stopping to stare at the printed message on the mirror. Don’t ever see him again. He’s the wrong man for you.

  “Someone got destructive,” Zed said.

  “Yes, they did.” Nikki glared at him. “But Emily isn’t going to be alone here anymore. I’m moving in with her for a while, until the police find out who did this.”

  “The only way you could protect her is if you carried a gun as big as you are.” Zed made his way through the dining room, smiling at Nikki when she frowned at him.

  Emily and Zed sat down at the kitchen table. Nikki hovered behind Emily.

  “Sit down, she-cat, you don’t have to protect Emily from me. I’m here as a friend, not an enemy.”

  Emily nodded agreement. “Yes, please sit down, Nikki, and quit giving Mr. Banning the evil eye.” When Nikki sat down, Emily turned to Zed. “I’m ready to listen.”

  Zed laid his big hands on the table, rubbing the wooden surface with his fingertips. “For the past five years, Mitch has been in as much pain as you must have been. Maybe more.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Nikki said.

  “Will you stay out of this!” Zed slammed his fist down on the table. “You aren’t helping the situation.”

  “You don’t scare me with your macho huffing and puffing!” Nikki defiantly tilted her chin upward.

  “Stop it. Both of you,” Emily said. “Nikki be quiet. Go on, Mr. Banning.”

  “Mitch isn’t a bad man. He’s a good man who used bad judgment. He trusted the wrong man and he fell in love with the. wrong woman.”

  A stinging pang of jealousy hit Emily. Unexpected. Unwanted. Why did she care that Mitch had been in love with another woman?

  “He was young and ambitious,” Zed said. “Mitch had been dirt poor, and more than anything else, he wanted to make something of himself. He worked for me for several years after he got out of the marines. He was bright and hardworking. He’d probably be my partner by now if he hadn’t met Loni Prentice and Randy Styles.”

  “He became Randy Styles’s partner instead of yours,” Nikki said.

  “That’s right.” Zed nodded agreement. “Loni persuaded Mitch to borrow as much money as he could, then add that to his life’s savings and invest everything in a partnership with Randy Styles. Styles promised Mitch quick success and big money,” Zed explained. “Styles came through with his promises. He just didn’t bother telling Mitch that he was taking some shortcuts, using substandard supplies, buying off building inspectors and bedding Loni on the side.”

  Zed leaned back in the kitchen chair, shoving it away from the table. “The buildings Mitch constructed were top-notch, but by the time he found out what Styles was doing, it was too late. Ocean Breeze collapsed, and it was all over.”

  “He lost everything.” Emily crossed her arms at her waist, gripping her elbows, hugging herself. She closed her eyes. “Mitch lost everything, too.”

  “Randy Styles ran off with as much money as he could liquidate in a hurry, and Loni, who was Mitch’s fiancée by that time, ran off with Styles. Then Mitch had to go to court and face the lawsuits and face the people who’d been injured when Ocean Breeze collapsed. After the trial, Styles and Hayden Construction Company was bankrupt and no one would give Mitch a job.”

  Zed stood and rounded the table, then reached down and took Emily’s hands. “Yeah, just like you, Mitch lost everything. And he’s spent five years punishing himself for what happened. He had become a homeless burn when I found him and persuaded him to come back to the Gulf.”

  One lone tear cascaded down Emily’s face, falling onto Zed’s hand. He looked at her. She nodded her head.

  “If you can ever find it in your heart to forgive him, he’ll finally be able to forgive himself.” Zed released Emily’s hands. “Think about what I’ve told you.”

  “Nikki will see you out,” Emily said.

  “No, I’ll see myself out.”

  Neither Emily nor Nikki said a word until they heard the front door close, then Emily stood up and walked out onto the back section of the porch. Nikki followed.

  “What are you going to do?” Nikki asked.

  “I’m going to go on living, the way I have for the past five years. One day at a time.”

  “What about Mitch?”

  “I’m not ready to see him or talk to him. Right now, it hurts too much just to think about him. About us.”

  At sunset, Mitch Hayden drove his Harley up the driveway of his rented cottage. After dismounting and removing his helmet, he turned to stare at the house next door. More than anything he wanted to see Emily, to hold her in his arms and beg her to forgive him. But he didn’t dare go to her. After everything he’d done to her, he had no right to ask for her forgiveness, let alone for her friendship or her love.

  Chapter 10

  Mitch stood on the beach, not looking out at the bay, but at Emily Jordan sitting alone on her porch, a huge straw hat on her head and a sketch pad in her hand. They were back where they had started—as strangers, watching each other from afar. He wanted to go to her, to tell her how sorry he was for everything she had suffered, but he wasn’t sure he had the courage. Days had passed, turning into a week, and still he waited.

  Nikki was staying at the cottage with Emily. He saw the two of them coming home in the evenings together, saw them taking long walks on the beach and often sitting on the porch until dark.

  He’d found out from Zed, who’d taken a personal interest in the situation, that Emily’s secret admirer hadn’t made any more phone calls or sent any more “love” letters. That could mean anything, couldn’t it? Maybe Emily’s admirer had gotten one of the things he’d wanted—for Emily to stop seeing Mitch Hayden. But the thing he wanted most, he still didn’t have—Emily herself. So why no more phone calls, no more letters?

  The police had questioned Mitch—twice. He was sure Fowler Jordan had implied that he was the man they sought. Maybe Jordan truly believed he posed a threat to Emily. Mitch was afraid that if the police concentrated all their attention on him, the real stalker might remain free. Free to break into Emily’s home again. Free to attack her.

  Out there somewhere was the real culprit. Zed had warned Mitch to keep a close eye on Emily’s cottage. Whoever was responsible for the break-in might try again, when Emily and Nikki were at home.

  But Mitch needed more than to guard her at a distance. He needed to talk to Emily, even if she never forgave him. He needed to tell her his side of the story, to explain that he hadn’t realized until it was too late what his business partner was doing. He wanted Emily to know that he had spent the last five years in a guilt-induced hell.

  But would she talk to him? Would she even let him near her?

  “He’s coming this way,” Nikki said, shading her eyes with her hand. “I’m going inside to fix some iced tea.”
r />   “No, Nikki, don’t go. Don’t leave me alone with him.” Emily clutched the charcoal pencil in her hand.

  “It’s taken him a week to build up enough courage to come over and talk to you. You’ve been waiting for this. You want to hear what he has to say, and neither of you need me around when he says it.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s just that I don’t know if I have the courage to see him.” Emily laid down her sketch pad and pencil on the wicker table, placed her hands in her lap and waited for Mitch. Nikki hurried along the porch toward the back of the house.

  She sat quietly, listening to the waves roll into shore, listening to the soft wind blowing and to the sound of her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. What would he say to her? How would she respond? She had long since made her peace with the hatred she’d felt for the unknown man, M. R. Hayden, but there was no peace between her and Mitch. There never could be as long as they didn’t talk to each other.

  Mitch put his foot on the bottom step, looked up at Emily and waited for some sign from her. She stared at him, her brown eyes filled with sadness.

  “May I—”

  “Yes,” she said.

  He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been so nervous, so damned scared he’d say or do the wrong thing. This was his one and possibly only chance to make things right with Emily, to plead his case and beg her forgiveness.

  Mitch took the steps two at a time, then halted abruptly at the edge of the porch. “How have you been? Zed told me that the letters and phone calls have stopped.”

  “For now,” Emily said.

  “I’m glad Nikki is staying with you.”

  “I know you’ve been keeping an eye on us, and that Mr. Banning is doing what he can to help, as a favor to you. He—he even offered to hire a bodyguard for me, but I think that’s going a bit too far, don’t you?” She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at Mitch; instead she stared at his feet.