Emily And The Stranger

by Beverly Barton

  Mitch couldn’t stop staring at Emily, at her downcast eyes, at her soft, pink lips, at the fall of dark hair curling out from underneath the straw hat. “If things escalate...if this guy becomes violent again...a bodyguard might not be a bad idea.”

  “If things worsen, I’ll probably move back to Mobile.” Emily wrung her hands. “I was always safe when I lived with Uncle Fowler. He protected me from the world. But I wanted to start living again, to get out on my own.” She laughed, the sound a mockery of the real thing. “Just look what’s happened to me.”

  Mitch hadn’t been overly impressed with Fowler Jordan upon his brief meeting with him, but he didn’t doubt the man’s devotion to Emily. Stuart Jordan’s uncle had devoted the past five years of his life to Emily. But maybe during those five years, he’d become too accustomed to running Emily’s life.

  “You still don’t have any idea who is harassing you and why?” Mitch asked.

  “Do you know that since last Sunday morning, all sorts of crazy thoughts have gone through my mind.”

  When Mitch took a tentative step toward Emily, she glanced away from him, turning her head slightly to gaze out at the bay. “I’ve wondered if it’s possible that Uncle Fowler is right about you. That you really are my tormentor.”

  “You can’t honestly think I’d—”

  “Yes, the thought did cross my mind.”

  “Emily, for crissakes, I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never—”

  “No, you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Nothing except kill my husband and child and...” Emily scooted her chair away from the wicker table, intending to stand up and run into the house. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t have this conversation with Mitch. Despite what she’d thought, she wasn’t ready. “I’m sorry. I know what happened with the Ocean Breeze Apartments wasn’t your fault.”

  Mitch touched her. She froze to the spot. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulders in a gentle yet firm hold. “I’d lie down and die for you right here and now if it would change anything. If I could give you back your life, I’d do it.”

  Emily refused to look at him. She hung her head, avoiding any eye contact. “Please, let me go. I know...I understand that you were duped by your partner, that you were taken in by some woman.”

  Noting the jealousy in Emily’s voice, Mitch rejoiced inwardly, realizing that Emily had to still care about him to be jealous. He willed himself not to smile about this one small reason to hope.

  “Her name was Loni. She was blond and sexy and...and I didn’t really love her. Not the right way. I was young and stupid and acted like a damned dog running around after a bitch in heat.” Mitch gave Emily a gentle shake. “I made so many mistakes, honey, but I’ve paid dearly for them, and I’m still paying. Nothing has ever hurt me the way seeing you in so much pain does.”

  She swallowed her tears. She would not let him see her cry again. “I don’t hate you, Mitch. I came to terms with what happened to Stuart and our baby a long time ago...but I can’t forget. I’ll never be able to forget.” She pulled away from him. “You see, I have scars on my back that will be a reminder to me for as long as I live.”

  “Emily?” Mitch clasped her chin in his hand, tilting her head upward until she looked him directly in the eye. “I thought that if you could forgive me, it would be enough, but it’s not. I want more. I want you to let me try to make things right. I don’t know how, but I need to do something, anything to help you.”

  She saw the truth of his words in his ice-blue eyes, the sincerity of his plea. “Remember what you told me about pity? Well, I don’t want your pity. Not now or ever.”

  “It’s not pity, Emily. I care about you. I care so much it hurts. Please, help me find a way to—”

  “Do you really want to do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Then go away, Mitch. Go away and leave me alone. There is no place for you in my life. I—I’ve decided that I...I’m probably going to start seeing Charles again. He’s very fond of me...and...” When Mitch glared at her, anger glimmering in his eyes, Emily jerked her chin out of his grasp, turned quickly and walked away.

  “Emily?”

  She stopped just before rounding the corner of the porch, but she didn’t look back at him. “Yes?”

  “They don’t matter to me, you know. The scars on your back. If you had allowed me to see them, I would have told you how beautiful you are. And you are beautiful to me. All of you.”

  “Goodbye, Mitch.”

  He stood on the porch for several minutes after she walked from the side porch to the back of the house and went into the kitchen. “This isn’t goodbye, pretty lady,” Mitch whispered. “I couldn’t leave you now, even if I wanted to.”

  There wasn’t a damned thing Mitch could do about Emily’s decision to date Charles Tolbert again. Nothing except let the anger inside him fester, growing like a rotting sore. He couldn’t help thinking of Emily as his. If that made him a fool, then he was a fool. If he believed Tolbert could make Emily happy, it might make letting her go a little easier. But as long as Emily wanted him, then she couldn’t find happiness with anyone else. And he knew she wanted him.

  So, for the time being Mitch had to stand by, doing what little he could. He watched Emily’s house at night, listening for any signs of an intruder. Sometimes, in the early-morning hours, he’d stand outside her bedroom window, at a discreet distance, and remember when he’d held her in his arms all night long.

  But since the night of the break-in at Emily’s house, there had been no more letters or phone calls. Could that mean Tolbert had been her secret admirer, the one who had warned her to stop dating Mitch, and now he had what he wanted? Or was this mystery man simply playing a waiting game? Hopefully, Emily would be safe for the time being. Safe in another man’s arms

  Seeking freedom from his pain, Mitch got on his Harley, accelerated quickly and raced up the highway. He’d come a long way down from the top of the world where he’d been five years ago. He’d sunk pretty low by the time Zed found him in Arkansas, but he’d worked hard the last few months to put his life back together. Emily had given him a reason to care again. She’d given him hope.

  Some of the guys at the construction site had told him about a rough and rowdy nightspot where the music was loud, the beer cheap and the women available. He wasn’t interested in another woman—only Emily. But he sure as hell could use a few beers and enough noisy distraction to dull his senses for a couple of hours.

  Mitch parked his motorcycle in the parking lot, hung his helmet on the seat and headed toward the Blue Lagoon. By the sound of the upbeat country music he heard, once he got inside he wouldn’t be able to hear himself think.

  A smoky haze permeated the crowded room. A small band blasted out an instrumental hit. Mitch made his way to the bar, ordered a beer and ignored the blonde who was giving him the eye.

  “Want some company, sweetie?” She sat down on the empty stool beside Mitch.

  “No.”

  “What’s the matter—your girl leave you for another guy?”

  Mitch jerked around, staring at the woman as if she were a gypsy fortune teller.

  Grinning, she ran the tips of her fingers up his arm. “I guessed right, huh?”

  “Look, I’m not interested.”

  “Don’t you like blondes?”

  “I used to,” he told her. “But my tastes have changed. I prefer brunettes now. One brunette in particular.”

  “Lucky lady.” She leaned into Mitch’s side, brushing her large breasts against his arm. “Last chance, sweetie. If you don’t want what I’m offering, I’ll find somebody who does.”

  “Then go find him, sweetie, and leave me the hell alone.”

  Ignoring the woman, Mitch ordered himself a second beer. Maybe he was stupid to refuse her. Maybe he should buy her a drink and find them a table somewhere. Within an hour he could have her laid out naked on a motel bed, with her legs spread and her arms open wide. God knew he ne
eded a woman. Needed one bad. But just any woman wouldn’t do. Not anymore.

  A few months ago, he would have taken the blonde up on her offer of “companionship.” But not tonight. He’d lost his taste for loose women. Mitch clutched his beer, waiting for the woman to leave.

  “Hey, Kellie baby, come over here and meet some friends of mine,” a loud masculine voice called out from across the room.

  Lifting the beer to his mouth, Mitch took a deep swallow and looked over the edge of his glass, scanning the room. His stomach knotted tightly. For five years he had frequented places like this, places where he could pick up a woman, get drunk cheap and find a few hours of forgetfulness. But he had left that life behind him, and he wasn’t going to sink that low again. Not ever.

  Mitch paid for his beers and headed for the door. The refreshing night air hit him the moment he stepped outside.

  Once he had thought that Emily Jordan’s forgiveness would be enough. He’d been wrong. He needed more from her. He needed to find a way to make her happy, to give her the life she truly wanted. Somehow, someway, he was going to do just that.

  Emily stood a discreet distance behind Rod while he worked on his most recent painting. She’d never known a student as talented as Rod; actually, his talent far exceeded hers. But he hadn’t quite matured enough to come into his own. He was still searching for his unique style. She had told him that there was only one Monet, one Picasso and one Rod Simmons. Once he truly knew himself well enough to know he must paint for himself and himself alone, he would learn to takes risks—risks that could create his best work.

  She inspected the still life he was creating, a study in contrasting textures and values. “This painting has been a real challenge to you, hasn’t it?”

  Rod stepped back a couple of feet, studying his work, then turned to Emily. “Trying to capture the light through those clear glass objects has been one of my most difficult projects. But I think using the series of glazes, each one in a different color, helped me achieve the effect I wanted.”

  “I’d like to display this piece in our window, once you’ve finished.” Emily laid her hand on Rod’s shoulder. He tensed instantly and she wondered why. She had often placed her hand on his back or shoulder and he’d never flinched at her touch the way he’d just done. Emily removed her hand.

  Rod stepped away from her, closer to his painting. “All I lack now is the finish.”

  “Color lifting will soften a highlight edge,” Emily commented, her mind wandering as she checked her watch. Charles was supposed to pick her up at six and it was five till now. They were going to meet Uncle Fowler for dinner and both men would be displeased that she hadn’t taken time to run home and change. But this last class of the day had run over a few minutes and when Rod had asked if he could stay and speak privately to her, she’d agreed.

  “I appreciate all the extra time you give me, Emily.” Rod began gathering up his supplies. “You’re really a wonderful person.”

  Rod’s innocent compliment stirred a sense of uneasiness in Emily. Since the break-in, she’d been questioning every little comment others made, especially men. Even though nothing else had happened, not even a note or phone call, she didn’t feel completely safe. Uncle Fowler had tried to convince the police that Mitch Hayden was behind Emily’s harassment and the break-in, that he could have easily hired someone to ransack Emily’s home while he wined and dined her. Nikki still thought Charles was the culprit, but then, Nikki didn’t like Charles and made no secret of the fact she thought Emily was an idiot for dating him again. And now here Emily was suspecting Rod, simply because he’d told her she was a wonderful person.

  “I’m more than glad to give a talented student a little extra help,” Emily said. “Rod, I don’t mean to rush you, but I do have a date tonight, so could you tell me why you needed to see me privately?”

  “Is your date with that Mitch guy?” Rod peered at her with eyes narrowed to slits. A harsh frown marred his youthfully pretty face.

  “No, it isn’t, but I hardly think that’s any of your business.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Rod proceeded with the cleanup job he’d started. “I asked you to stay over because...well, I ... er...” Turning abruptly, he unbalanced his easel. Just as it began to topple, he reached out and grabbed it. With his back to Emily, he said, “I’m awfully sorry about what happened at your house. I think it’s terrible that anyone would be that destructive.”

  “How did you know about—”

  “The police questioned me.” Rod turned around slowly and lifted his eyes to gaze directly into Emily’s face. “I hope you know that I’d never break into your house and destroy your nice things. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  Rod was the second man in her life who had swom he’d never do anything to hurt her. And she wanted to believe them both. “Rod, no one has accused you of anything. I’m sure the police are questioning many of the people I know. Probably all of my male art students, since my mystery caller is definitely male.”

  Rod’s face turned crimson beneath his tan. “Well, there’s a big difference in calling someone and sending them letters and in breaking into their house. I mean calls and letters aren’t destructive. They don’t hurt anyone. But breaking into a person’s house is a different matter altogether.”

  “You’re right.” Emily wished she didn’t feel so nervous simply because she was alone with Rod in her upstairs studio. She was being silly. Of course Rod would never hurt her. Besides, Nikki was still downstairs. All she had to do was call out her name and she’d come running.

  “I’d say that they’re two different people, wouldn’t you?”

  “What?” The more Rod talked, the more uneasy Emily became. A sudden sense to run almost overcame her. She backed slowly away from Rod.

  He took several tentative steps toward her. “Don’t you think it’s possible that whoever broke into your home is someone other than the man who’s been calling you and sending you letters?”

  “The police seem to think it’s the same person,” Emily said. “They think we might be dealing with a stalker.”

  “No, you aren’t!” Rod surveyed the room quickly, as if he were looking for an escape. “What I mean is that whoever broke into your house might be a stalker, but not the other person.”

  “Why do you think that?” Emily checked her watch again. “Rod, I’m sorry, but—”

  “Emily,” Nikki called out from the stairway.

  “Yes,” Emily replied. “What is it?”

  “Charles is here.”

  “Tell him I’ll be right down.” Emily rushed to the stairs, halted momentarily and glanced back at Rod. He looked like a lost and frightened kid. Suddenly she felt very foolish for suspecting him. “Thanks for trying to help me make sense of this mess, but why don’t we leave all the theorizing to the police.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Goodbye, Emily. Have a nice time tonight.”

  “See you day after tomorrow.”

  Emily rushed downstairs. When she reached the bottom, Nikki pulled her aside, into the storeroom.

  “Nikki, what are you doing?” Planting her hands firmly on her hips, Emily glared at her friend.

  “You’re making a major mistake dating Charles Tolbert.”

  “Stay out of this. Whom I choose to date is my business.”

  “The only reason you’re dating Charles is because of what happened with Mitch.” Nikki pointed her index finger in Emily’s face. “You’re doing just what Charles and your uncle wanted you to do. You’re falling back into the safe life Fowler Jordan planned for you.”

  “Right now, a safe life doesn’t seem so bad,” Emily said. “Not after what happened with Mitch. I took a chance on love and see what it got me.” Emily opened her hands, palms up, in an exasperated gesture. “My God, Nikki, I fell in love with a man whose construction firm was responsible for Stuart’s death!”

  “Mitch Hayden didn’t kill Stuart or your baby. He isn’t responsible
for the scars on your back.”

  Emily dropped her hands to her sides and nervously rubbed them against her hips. “I can’t discuss this right now. I don’t want to talk about Mitch. I don’t want to think about Mitch. All I want to do is forget him.”

  Emily ran from the storeroom, slowing her pace when she saw Charles waiting by the counter, a concerned look on his face.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course. Everything’s fine.” She walked behind the counter. “Just let me get my purse and I’ll be ready to go.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right? Nothing has happened, has it?” Charles asked. “You haven’t had any more calls or letters, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. Nothing is wrong. I’m just running behind a little this evening.” Emily picked up her purse, came out from behind the counter and smiled at Charles. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to go home and change.”

  “Your slacks are a bit casual, but you look lovely.” Charles took her arm and draped it over his.

  “Nikki,” Emily called out. “Don’t wait up for me tonight. I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”

  Nikki appeared in the storeroom doorway. “Stay out as late as you’d like, and have fun.”

  Nikki’s smile was pure devilment, and Emily knew what her friend was thinking. She might as well have said it aloud. Have fun. If you can have any fun with someone as boring as Charles.

  “I’m sure we’ll have a delightful time,” Emily said, then walked out the door with her date.

  She might not have fun with Charles Tolbert, but she would be safe. Uncle Fowler had kept her safe for five years, but as soon as she’d left his protection, her life began to unravel. Letters and phone calls from a secret admirer. Her house broken into and her living room ransacked. But worst of all, she had opened herself up for love again and had been destroyed by a truth she still didn’t want to face.