The Rebel

by J. R. Ward

  And it was breaking her heart.

  Her conversation with Mike had been short, but grueling. And in spite of the fact that he hadn’t been totally up front with her about Karl Graves, she knew he felt awful.

  “There has to be a way,” Nate said.

  “There isn’t. And I have to accept that so please don’t…don’t try and give me hope.”

  Nate’s jaw tightened as he fell silent.

  When they finally pulled into White Caps’ driveway, dusk was draining the light from the sky and the house glowed. Nate killed the engine, but Frankie made no move to get out of the car. She just stared at her home.

  Images flooded her mind, wrenching her back to the past. She saw her family together on the side lawn at Alex’s thirteenth birthday party. And her father sticking his head out an upstairs window while launching a balsa wood glider into the air. She remembered snowmen being rolled in the winter, and fireflies getting caught in the summer, and the brilliant leaves falling in the autumn.

  At least she could take the memories with her, though they would be less vivid somehow.

  She looked at her brother in the backseat. Alex’s long arms and legs were stretched out, the casts very white against his tanned skin. A pillow was crammed against one door, his head bent at an angle.

  “I just don’t know how to tell them,” she whispered before reaching out and gently touching her brother’s forearm. “Lexi? Lexi, we’re home.”

  His lids lifted and those brilliant blue eyes were horribly dull. As he struggled to sit up, he refused the hand she offered.

  “Frankie!” Joy burst out of the house. “Frankie! You’re not going to believe this! Guess what!”

  The roof caved in, Frankie thought numbly. No, wait, the roof let go and the front staircase collapsed.

  She got out of the car, not paying too much attention to Joy. She was more concerned with getting Alex to his feet without having him fall over. And naturally, he was busy pushing her away.

  “Frankie!” Joy thrust something in her face. “Look at this!”

  She forced her tired eyes to focus.

  On a diamond ring the size of a walnut.

  “Nice piece of bling,” Alex muttered as he arranged himself on his crutches and started slowly for the house.

  “What the hell is that?” Frankie demanded.

  “Grand-Em and George found it. In the wall. Arthur Garrison really did give it to her and she really did hide it from her father so he couldn’t make her accept the proposal.”

  “My…God.” Frankie took the piece. It was heavy and sparkled like a rainbow.

  “We can pay for the plumbing with it!” Joy’s face was aglow. “And more! It’s got to be worth a couple hundred thousand, right? So you can get caught up with the bills, maybe even put some money away for next year.”

  Nate appeared over Frankie’s shoulder. Just in time to catch her as her legs went out and she fainted, dead as a mackerel.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WHEN FRANKIE CAME AROUND, she was in Nate’s arms in the kitchen. Alex, Joy and George were staring at her.

  “Guess she isn’t used to good news,” George said as he chewed on a cookie.

  “I’m okay,” she murmured, pushing against Nate’s chest.

  He put a glass of orange juice in front of her. “Drink this.”

  “No, I’m really okay.” She got to her feet, amused to find the ring clutched in her hand. Even when she’d been unconscious, she’d known enough not to lose the thing.

  As she looked at the diamond, she thought, so this was what winning the lottery felt like. It was good. Really, really damn good.

  “Isn’t this just amazing!” Joy exclaimed.

  “You’ll have better luck selling it down in the city,” Nate said. “I’ve got some friends in the diamond district who can take care of it for you.”

  Frankie nodded. “But let’s find out what it’s worth, first. I’ll take it to Albany tomorrow. To the jeweler who sold Grand-Em’s other rings.”

  There was a pause. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

  She smiled and then, suddenly, she couldn’t stop beaming. “You know what we need to do? Let’s go out to dinner. To celebrate. Let’s get Grand-Em and go to the Silver Diner and eat ourselves silly.”

  “Me, too?” George asked.

  “Of course!” Frankie started laughing and pumped the ring over her head. “Let’s hear it for salvation.”

  There was a hearty cheer from the group and even Alex cracked a smile.

  In the end, her brother elected to stay behind, but Grand-Em was thrilled with the invitation. The five of them were just leaving the house when the phone started to ring. Frankie paused, hand on the back door.

  “Let it go to voice mail,” Nate said in her ear. “All the guests are accounted for. And we’ll only be gone for an hour.”

  But she couldn’t do it. After a decade of being tied to the phone, letting it go knowingly unanswered felt like child abandonment.

  She was breathless from rushing to her desk as she picked up. She recognized the voice instantly and felt a sliver of dread.

  “Nate,” she called out. “It’s for you. Spike.”

  NATE FROWNED AND STRODE through the kitchen to the office.

  “What’s doing?” he said into the receiver.

  “I’ve found the joint, man. It’s perfect. In the theater district. We went there to eat just a couple of months ago. Tamale’s.”

  Nate propped his hip against the desk. He knew the place. It was small, intimate. Kitchen was open to the dining area. Nice area of the city to be in. “Why are the owners selling?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. They’re not sure they want to, but they’re getting spanked. Tex-Mex is passé so they’re not covering food and labor costs and their head chef quit two days ago when he got raided by someone else. The owners called me, wondering if I’d take over the stove. I went out for a drink with them last night, and man, they’ve got that bloody-eyeball exhaustion thing hanging around them like a funeral dirge. We got talking about their operation, and when I mentioned you and I were looking to buy, they were interested in getting together again. They seem desperate, so maybe they’ll even hold paper for a while so we’ll have a little more breathing room with the money. This is friggin’ fantastic, man. Just what we’ve been looking for.”

  Nate frowned. “If they want to sell.”

  “That’s where you come in, you Harvard-ass educated, fancy talkin’ SOB. They’re right on the edge and you’re just the man to shoulder-check them into the abyss. Or have you forgotten your hockey moves?” Spike chuckled, but then his voice got serious. “Man, this has got to be it. We’ve been trying so damn hard and I’m tired of being on the sidelines. I have to get back to work, Walkman, I really do.”

  Nate could totally understand that. He’d been itchy as hell before he’d taken over at White Caps.

  “So when’re you coming down?” Spike demanded.

  Nate thought about White Caps’ kitchen. There wasn’t much he could do, and now that Frankie had the ring, he felt less like he’d be abandoning her at a terrible time.

  “Give me two days.”

  “Good deal.” There was a pause. “We’re going to make this work, Walkman. And we’re going to have a friggin’ blast doing it.”

  Nate hung up. And felt curiously numb.

  He should be more psyched. Hell, he should be panting to get into Lucille and head down to the city. What was his problem?

  Maybe it was because there wasn’t really a deal, only the possibility of a deal. Maybe he’d just gotten his hopes up too many times.

  Frankie poked her head in the door. “Everything okay?”

  Or maybe it was something else entirely.

  Nate drank in the sight of her. The light from overhead fell onto the dark waves of her hair and brought the features of her face out into high relief. She was wearing a little white shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans and had red f
lip-flops on her feet.

  “Nate?”

  He rubbed the middle of his chest. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

  But was it? He heard the enthusiasm in Spike’s voice again as well as the man’s desperation to get back to the job he loved. He and Spike had made a pact to find their fortune together. Spike was relying on him to keep up his side of the bargain.

  Good God, Nate thought, wrenching a hand through his hair. Was he actually considering pulling out?

  Panic swirled in his gut.

  No. He wasn’t.

  He was a man of his word. And besides, being an owner was his dream, too. He wasn’t doing it as a favor to Spike.

  “Nate?” she whispered.

  He forced a smile and pushed himself off the desk.

  “Come on, let’s go.” He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her.

  “He found something, didn’t he.”

  Nate stared down into her eyes. “Yes, he did.”

  AS EVERYONE PILED INTO the Honda and Frankie got behind the wheel, she was frustrated. Damn it, White Caps had just been saved and here she was, back in the doldrums. She needed to lighten up.

  But how could she? The idea that Nate was going to the city in forty-eight hours to look at a place to buy made the end of the summer so real.

  When they got to the Silver Diner, everyone was talking at the same time, George and Nate about sports, Joy and Grand-Em about some gala that had been held in 1954. Frankie felt herself withdrawing, just pinning a smile on her face and watching them all as if they were on TV.

  Throughout dinner, she kept looking at Nate and finding herself missing him. When the meal was over and they filed out of the restaurant, he put his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the maze of tables in the back room and then past the stools in the rail car. His touch was firm, warm. Tantalizing.

  How was she going to say goodbye?

  God, their end was coming so fast, so soon. Whether or not he bought the place Spike had called about or not, Labor Day was just a couple weeks away.

  As if he sensed her thoughts, Nate massaged her shoulder. She covered his hand with hers, feeling the warmth of his skin. As they stepped out into the night air together, they let the others go ahead.

  Frankie stopped walking and closed her eyes, trying to force the memory of the moment into her mind. The feel of his touch, the smell of him, the knowledge that they were going home and sharing the same bed tonight.

  “I just want to hold on tight to this,” she whispered.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Me, too.”

  When they got home, Frankie checked on Alex before going to her room. He didn’t stir as she opened the door and she looked at the sample packs of Percocet his doctors had given him. He hadn’t been taking the pills, which was a relief because that Scotch bottle was now empty.

  God, he looked haggard even as he slept.

  Frankie shut off the light on the bureau.

  “Do you love him?” Alex asked in the darkness.

  She gasped. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

  “You think I can sleep?”

  “You drank enough.”

  Alex cursed softly. “Not nearly.”

  Frankie walked over to the bed and sat down carefully on the edge. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Stop asking me that, okay? It makes me feel like a cripple. Besides, what I want I can’t have.”

  Frankie smiled sadly. She and Alex had always had quick tempers and she knew exactly how he was feeling right now. His skin was probably itching for her to leave him alone.

  “Well, do you?” her brother demanded. “Love that guy?”

  “I don’t know.” Actually, she did. But she couldn’t say the words out loud.

  “He’s not bad, you know.”

  She laughed. “Now there’s a ringing endorsement.”

  “I like the way he takes care of you.”

  “Me, too.” She took a deep breath. “But he’s leaving soon. Going back to New York. He’s want to open his own restaurant.”

  “You going with him?”

  “God, no. Who would run this place?”

  “Then he should stay here with you.” Alex’s voice was biting with disapproval.

  “He has a right to follow his dream.”

  “He’s a fool.”

  She glared into the dark. “How can you of all people say that? You left Saranac because what you wanted couldn’t be found here. Why can’t he do the same?”

  “Because you’re my sister.”

  “And I was your sister back when Mom and Dad died, too. That didn’t stop you then, did it?” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay. I deserved that. And more.”

  They were silent for a while. He shifted on the bed and grunted.

  “I’m so damn sorry about what happened,” he said softly.

  She put her hand on his arm. “But the Coast Guard said the accident wasn’t your fault—”

  “No, about you staying behind all those years ago and taking care of Joy and Grand-Em. I didn’t give you a choice. I took off and left you to clean everything up and it wasn’t fair. That’s why I want Nate to stay. So someone can take care of you for a change.”

  Her breath caught.

  “I want you to know something, Frankie. You did a great job raising Joy. Mom and Dad would have been so proud of you. Not surprised, just proud.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she started to cry.

  Alex cleared his throat as he moved his arm away from her touch. “Anyway.”

  She sniffled. “I’m so glad you said something. I—”

  “You better go to your man, now. You should enjoy him while you have him,” he said gruffly. “Although I still think he’s a fool for leaving.”

  “Alex—”

  “Go on. I’m tired.”

  She wiped her tears away and stood up. “Okay, I’m leaving.”

  As she shut the door, she thought that Alex was as Grand-Em had become. Every once in a while, you’d get a glimpse at what was inside.

  But it never lasted long enough.

  LATE THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Nate wiped plaster dust out of his eyes as he got off the stepladder and put down the crowbar. He’d finished removing the last of the water-damaged sections of Sheetrock from the rafters. With a clear path made, a fresh ceiling could be put up the minute those new pipes were installed.

  “Excuse me, Chef?”

  Nate turned around and looked at Henry. The boy was with his mother and dressed in real clothes, not the bathing suit and life jacket that had been his uniform of late.

  “Hey, bud. What’s up?”

  Since their conversation on the dock, the kid had managed to corner him two more times. They’d covered vegetables while on a tour of Frankie’s garden and then bread-making.

  “We’re leaving.” Henry marched forward, holding out an envelope. “I wanted to give this to you so you could remember me. We’re coming next year, and even though your kitchen’s ruined now, I want to see you when I come back so we can sit on the dock again. Because you never did finish telling me about chickens, you know, and I really should know about them if I’m going to go to cooking school like you did and wear a big tall hat…”

  Nate took the envelope and glanced at the boy’s mother. She smiled and mouthed the words, thank you for being his friend.

  “…and my dad said it’s only about three hundred miles to the city so you could come visit us if you wanted to…”

  As the chatter continued, Nate realized he was going to miss the kid.

  “…and that’s all I have to say about that.” Henry put his hands on his hips. “So can I have a hug now?”

  Nate swallowed. And then carefully put the envelope on the counter. He knelt down and opened his arms, not sure what to expect. Henry, however, was an old hat at the hug thing. He launched himself like a bottle rocket into
the chest that was being offered and grabbed onto Nate’s neck so hard Nate saw stars.

  Henry pulled back. “See you next summer.”

  And then he marched over to his mother, took her hand, and led her out the door.

  Nate let himself fall back onto the floor.

  A moment later, he reached up for the envelope. Inside was a black-and-white photograph of Henry and him in the garden. Nate was pointing over the boy’s shoulder to a tomato plant and Henry was looking up gravely. One of Henry’s parents must have taken it, though Nate had never noticed because keeping up with that kid required a lot of concentration.

  After staring at the image for a long time, Nate took the picture and put it to his chest.

  In the distance, he heard the phone ring and Frankie’s voice as she picked up in her office. She’d just returned from Albany. The gemologist had been out that morning, but the jeweler’s assistant had promised her an answer from the man soon.

  “Nate! It’s for you.”

  He put the picture back into the envelope so it was safe and went to her office. After giving her a quick kiss on the mouth, he picked up the receiver.

  Spike got right to the point. “Change in plan, Walkman. Evidently, I talked Tamale’s owners into selling on my own. They’re putting the place on the market tomorrow at noon and I’m at our lawyer’s right now. What did the bank say we could do, outside limit?”

  Nate rattled off the numbers for a down payment and final purchase price, knowing them by heart. As he talked, he was aware that Frankie was scribbling on a sheet of paper, trying to look disinterested.

  When he was finished, Spike read the figures back. “Do I have this right?”

  “Wait,” Nate blurted.

  “What did I screw up?”

  There was a tense silence. Nate had a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d chewed tin. His stomach was on fire.

  “Nate? What’s the problem?” When he didn’t answer, Spike’s voice grew frustrated. “What’s going on? This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for and the damn thing’s going to go fast. I’ll fax the papers to you so you can review and sign them and then first thing tomorrow our lawyer’s going to put the bid in. We need to be on the ball here.”