“Alicia.” Jacquie sighed. “A neat, organized, smart, pretty girl.”
“We had one of those. We needed a tomboy for balance.”
“How could I have come home like that—pregnant, with no husband or any hope of one? I couldn’t embarrass you and Daddy like that. I couldn’t embarrass the family. Or myself.”
“Poor child.” Her mother crossed the room and put her arms around Jacquie. “You were too hard on yourself. We would have survived a little embarrassment. And you wouldn’t be in such a terrible situation now. Does Mr. Lewellyn know about Erin?”
“I told him, when he first arrived in January. I thought I could keep them apart, keep people from finding out.”
“Oh, honey, I could’ve told you that wouldn’t fly. A secret’s bound to get out, especially in a town this size.”
“So what do I do now?”
“I think you wait a little while. See how Erin feels. Let God do a little work on the situation. You’ve already tried to handle too much on your own.”
Jacquie put her head down on her mother’s shoulder. “I should have told you from the first, shouldn’t I?”
“I’m certain of that. Moms always know best.”
RHYS TOOK ANDREW TO SCHOOL Monday morning, a silent drive except for a few comments about the weather, which was still rainy, and Imperator. “Jacquie suggested you ride him,” he told his son. “I think that’s our best bet for getting him in shape.”
“But I screwed up on Saturday. I figured you’d…” He hesitated.
“I would do what?”
“Be mad, at least.”
“You did your best. The horse has a problem we have to solve. Which is why you and Terry will work on the cross-country jumps.”
“You’re not going to jump him again?”
“I…don’t know.” Hard to admit, impossible to ignore. “But if we want to keep him, he has to win at the Top Flight trials.”
“Who would ride him, since I’m not old enough?”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
“But—”
“Enough.” The word echoed in the space around them, and Rhys winced. “Sorry. I’ve got enough to think about right now. We’ll talk about riders another time.”
Andrew shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever.”
Great parenting. He’d effectively shut his son down, at a time when they needed to work together. Rhys was beginning to think he should stick to horses and leave human interactions to those more qualified. Then again, he wasn’t doing so well with horses these days, either.
From school, he drove straight to Jacquie’s farm. He’d never been there, but with the address—Bower Lane—he had no trouble finding the place. Her little clapboard cottage sat right beside the road, its blue metal roof slick with rain. The barn and paddocks stood behind, all painted a clean white like the house. Three good-looking bay horses grazed in the pasture beyond the barn, while Mirage and a gray stallion stood together in one of the paddocks, stoic under the drizzle.
Jacquie’s truck was parked close to the barn, underneath an overhang that kept the truck bed out of the rain. As he braked his own truck nearby, she stepped out of the wide barn door, carrying several boxes of nails in each hand. When she saw him, she stopped and simply stood, waiting.
He cleared his throat as he reached her. “How are you?”
Her expression didn’t change. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.”
“A waste of time, Rhys.” She stepped by him and put the nail boxes on the tailgate of the truck, then turned back into the barn. “I’ll be okay.”
He followed her down the aisle of the neat and tidy space. He recalled that her apartment had always been a little messy that summer, with clothes left out and dishes in the sink never quite caught up. She’d spent most of her waking time with the horses, or with him. In the years since, she’d obviously learned to take care of her property.
But she wasn’t taking care of herself. “You’re still limping. Have you had that foot x-rayed?”
She stood in a stall-turned-storage-room, sorting prefabricated horseshoes into a wooden box. “No. It’s getting better.”
Rhys decided he would take her word for that. “Have you slept since Sunday? Eaten anything at all?”
Jacquie sighed. “I don’t remember.”
“Do you have work this morning?”
“Would I be here at nine o’clock if I had a job to do? No.” She rubbed at her temple, and he knew she had a headache.
He waited for her to finish sorting her shoes. Then he stepped in and picked up the box, wincing as the weight pulled at his back. “Do you want this in the truck?”
After gaping at him for a couple of seconds, she pressed her lips together. “Yes, thanks.”
He set the shoe box in the truck bed, moved the nails into the chrome tool chest underneath the rear window, then raised the tailgate and shut it. Jacquie came out as he turned around.
“What are you doing? I want to go through my stuff, clean out the junk and reorganize.”
“Not this morning.” Rhys walked around behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and propelled her into the rain. “You’re going to get something to eat.”
She leaned back, trying to stop their forward progress with her heels dug into the soft ground. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He kept pushing, forcing her to walk. At the truck, he opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
Jacquie looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Please, Rhys. I can’t go anywhere.”
“You don’t have to hide, Jacquie. You don’t have to punish yourself like this.”
With her head hanging, she got in the truck, only to sit hunched in her seat, leaning against the door, as if she could pretend she wasn’t there at all. The drive into town was even more silent than the earlier one with Andrew. But as they got to the outskirts of New Skye, Jacquie sat up and began to finger her hair.
“I’m a mess,” she complained. “I barely brushed my hair this morning.”
“There’s a comb in the console,” he said. “Be my guest.”
She cast him an irritated glance, but took him up on the offer. By the time he stopped the truck, she looked as neat and in control as usual.
“Better?” she asked, with a phony smile.
Rhys nodded. “You still look exhausted, and immensely sad.” Her smile faded. “But always beautiful.”
A flush stained her cheeks; she turned her face toward the window and the building outside. “The Carolina Diner? Why did you come here?”
“I like it. Friendly people, good food.”
“Couldn’t we just get some fast food? Take-out?”
“No. I want a real breakfast. You need one.” With a hand on her arm, he gave her no choice but to go with him to the front door, sidestepping puddles in the gravel parking lot on the way. The diner was crowded, most of its tables and green vinyl booths already filled. As Rhys let the door swing shut behind him, he saw Charlie Brannon, the owner, gesturing for them to come forward and pointing to a free booth at the same time. Rhys led Jacquie in that direction.
Charlie brought menus as they sat down. “Hey, Miss Jacquie. Rhys, good to see you. What can I get you two to drink?”
“Coffee?” Rhys looked at Jacquie, who nodded.
“Be right back.” Charlie slapped the table with his big hand and limped away.
Rhys looked at Jacquie. “He ran into a land mine in Vietnam, he told me.”
She nodded. “He came home, started up the Carolina Diner with his wife, and has been here ever since. All the kids from the high school come for snacks after the game or burgers before the movie, that kind of thing. Charlie makes a terrific banana split.”
“Maybe you should have one for breakfast.”
Her lips curved in a weak smile. “I’ll settle for bacon and eggs.” Then her focus settled on someone across the room, shifting to follow their movements.
He turned and
saw Abby, simultaneously clearing a table and pouring coffee. “She’s really busy this morning.”
“Yes, she is.”
Charlie brought their coffee out, took their orders and returned shortly with heaping plates of food. Abby still hadn’t come near their table.
“She’s avoiding me,” Jacquie said, stirring her eggs without eating them. “She found out, and she won’t talk to me because I lied.”
He’d heard the whispers at the schooling day, and knew the rumors had spread. He’d gotten a couple of impertinent phone calls himself. “Give her some time. We’ll be old news in a matter of days.”
“Not to Erin. Not to my friends.” She glanced across the room and lifted her hand to wave at a guy paying his bill at the register. “Hi, Rob.”
Very tall and lean, the man walked slowly toward their table. “Hey, Jacquie.” His smile looked a little forced. “How are you? Still walking with a cane?”
“Nope, I ditched the cane. Did you have a chance to meet Rhys Lewellyn at the horse show? Rhys, this is a good friend of mine, Rob Warren. We grew up together. Rob’s a locksmith, so if you ever get shut out of your house, he’s the one to call.”
Rhys stood up to shake hands, but thought Warren’s response was a little weak. “I’m glad to meet a locksmith. Did you enjoy the show?”
“Oh, sure.” He stepped back. “I was happy to see Erin win.”
“Don’t forget to call me about Ginny’s lessons,” Jacquie said. “I’m looking forward to that.”
“Um…sure.” Warren’s expression was wary. “I’ll see what I can do. Gotta get to work. Y’all have a good day.”
Jacquie didn’t bother to point out Rob’s distant attitude to Rhys. He would have seen it for himself. They sat without saying anything for a long time, their food cooling, untouched.
“There’s nothing I can do for you with Erin,” she said finally, bluntly. Might as well get everything out on the table. “She won’t even talk to me. She made Phoebe promise not to call to tell me where she was.”
Rhys looked up from his coffee, one eyebrow lifted in question. “Jacquie, I didn’t come expecting you to do something for me.”
She was too tired to think anymore. She propped her chin in her hand. “Then why am I here?”
He folded his arms on the table and leaned a little forward. “Do you really have to ask?”
At that moment, the puzzle of her life got shaken up and put together in a brand-new way. The answer to her question was there in Rhys’s face, in his sharp blue eyes—love and worry and tenderness, desire and a fierce concern. The fulfillment of every dream she’d ever had.
Jacquie turned her head away. “I can’t,” she whispered.
There was a moment of silence, while the pieces of the world shifted back again.
Rhys took a deep breath and sat back against the booth. “Someone needs to talk to Erin, try to explain.”
“Phoebe says she doesn’t need more pressure right now.”
“But she can’t stay with Phoebe indefinitely.”
“I understand that. Erin will calm down when she gets over the shock.” She did not need his criticism. “This was exactly what I didn’t want to happen—some kind of accidental revelation.”
His face stiffened. “Well, then, you should have told her the truth yourself, shouldn’t you?”
Her defiance crumbled as quickly as it had formed. “Yes. I should have told her the truth.”
He reached across the table to touch her hand with his fingertips. “Jacquie…I’m sorry. You did what you thought best.”
“Did I?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure anymore. Maybe…maybe the person I was really protecting was—” she took a deep shaking breath “—myself.”
The bell on the door to the diner jingled again, as it had every few minutes. Escaping from Rhys’s intense gaze and her own thoughts, Jacquie glanced at the new arrivals and saw Adam DeVries come in. With Phoebe.
In another moment, the engaged pair stood beside their table, exchanging reserved greetings.
“Can you sit down with us?” Jacquie asked, though she was certain she already knew the answer.
“Thanks,” Adam said, “but I’ve got a c-couple of people joining me for a m-meeting.” The bell tinkled again and he glanced at the door. “There they are, now. Phoebe, I’ll see you when you’re ready?”
“I’ll be right there,” Phoebe told him. Then she looked at Jacquie. “How are you?”
She shrugged, brushing off the question. “How is Erin?”
“Subdued. She ate breakfast, though, and took lunch to school.” Phoebe smiled at them. “I think it’s a good sign when teenagers eat.”
“Has she said anything at all about—” Rhys looked down at his hands “—the situation?”
“Yes.”
Jacquie sat forward, bracing her palms on the tabletop. “What did she tell you? How does she feel? Will she talk to me?”
Phoebe’s gray eyes softened. “I wish I could say yes. But Erin only had one thing to say.”
“What is that?”
“She wants to see Rhys.”
ERIN DIDN’T APPEAR in the school cafeteria Monday for lunch, so Andrew went looking for her. He met Cathy Parr in the hallway near the library. “Have you seen Erin?”
The blonde looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I wanted to talk to her but she didn’t come to lunch.”
“Oh.” Cathy looked up at the ceiling and all around them in the hall, as if she could see something he couldn’t. “Sorry. I can’t help you.” She brushed past him and hurried away, with one quick glance at the library door.
“Right.” Andrew stepped quietly inside the double doors and glanced around, without seeing Erin at any of the tables near the front desk. Moving through the shelves of books, he checked the study carrels along the back wall and finally noticed the top of her head in the corner farthest from library traffic. A good place to hide.
He walked quietly, then stopped a little ways off so he wouldn’t startle her. “Erin?”
“Go. Away. Now.” Her voice sounded thick and rough, like that weird Southern food called grits.
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m great. Go away.”
“Are you studying your math?”
“No. Go away.”
He set his backpack on the floor and sat down on the table of the carrel. “Want to talk?”
She didn’t answer.
“You did a good job with Mirage on Saturday.”
“Go away.”
“You’re gonna get through this, you know. Your parents can really mess you up sometimes, but what they do doesn’t change who you are. Or who you want to be. You have to figure that out for yourself.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Not. I got messed up living with my mom. Then she dumped me on my dad. He only cared about the horses.” And now you. But he wouldn’t give her that much. “I survived.”
“Nobody lied to you.”
“Worse—my mom told me the truth. Nobody wanted me. They just didn’t have the guts to get rid of me before I was born. Your mom could’ve done worse than just lying.”
He slung his backpack on his shoulder and walked out of the library, into the crowded, noisy hall. He’d said what he came to say, done all he could do.
Whether it helped or not was up to Erin.
IN HIS LIFETIME, Rhys had met several members of Britain’s royal family, haggled with an Arab sheikh over the price of a horse, and eaten dinner with a U.S. president.
None of those occasions had created the kind of nervousness he now felt as he waited to see his daughter on Tuesday afternoon. He had no idea what to say to this girl who had just learned the truth about their relationship. He hoped the right words would be there when he needed them.
Terry and Andrew had taken Imperator down to the cross-country course to work on the jumps, insuring that Rhys would have uninterrupted time alone with Erin
. Now, standing at the window in the gathering room, he watched Phoebe’s lime-green Volkswagen bug drive through the Fairfield Farm gate. For a second, he couldn’t remember how to breathe.
He reached the outside door at the same time Erin did. “Hi,” he said, feeling a little stupid. “Come in.”
They went to the gathering room and faced each other across the width of the carpet. The crackle of the fire sounded loud in the silence. Rhys cleared his throat. “Sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Do you want a snack after school?”
“No, thanks.” Erin clearly had more self-possession than he had managed so far. She sat on the couch and looked up at him. “You’re my biological father.”
He winced at the term. “That sounds so…technical. Like a machine on an assembly line.”
“What would you call it, instead?”
Rhys sat down at the other end of the sofa. “I was in love with your mother. We were very happy together, and we created a child out of that happiness—you.”
“Why didn’t you marry her?”
The explanation never got easier. “Before your mother ever came to New York, I had filed for divorce from my wife…Andrew’s mother. She’d left me for someone else. But then she came back, without warning.” He could still remember his nausea when Olivia walked into his father’s house wearing a tight maternity top chosen specifically to emphasize how pregnant she was. “She was carrying my child. I thought the right thing to do was to try again to make our marriage work.”
Erin looked down at her fingers, twining in her lap. “Did you know about…me?”
“No.” He had to be careful here, or the blame would fall solely on Jacquie’s shoulders. “Your mother had planned to tell me, that night after my wife returned. But instead I told her…well, what I’d decided. The next morning, your mother was gone.”
“She could have stayed. Fought for you.”
“That would have made the situation very difficult for all of us.”
“You could have looked for her.”
The implied accusation piqued his temper. “You’re drawing some false conclusions, Erin. Why would you assume I didn’t?”
“You didn’t find us.”
The Fake Husband Page 19
