Dixie squirmed. "I . . ." she started but he finished for her.
"It's still there, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you do. Yours and Kevin's initials. I'd half hoped you'd gotten over him by now. But I guess some things never change."
"I didn't even look. That's not why I—"
"Maybe, but you would have, if the storm hadn't caught you."
"Can we leave this for another time? I'm not up to fighting with you or anyone else about Kevin."
"No fight, sweetheart, but I think it's time someone told you he's happily married. And a word of advice, leave it at that." There was a steel edge of impatience in his voice that he didn't bother restraining.
"It was years ago, Mike. I didn't go there to moon over Kevin. And I'm glad he's happy. I've grown up a little since then, you know."
"Yeah, I've noticed." He cleared his throat and smiled. "And we'll leave it 'til another time, but there are a couple of things you need to know about that night. It's been seven years. You say you're over him. That's great, if it's the truth, but now I'd like a chance to explain my side of it. Maybe we can reach a level of understanding between us. You seem to resent me for some reason and I'd like to know why. I've never told anyone about that night, and don't intend to. I'm pretty involved with your family as you can see, and I don't want anything messing that up. The only thing I'm guilty of, Dixie, is being a little overprotective."
"Don't you think Kevin is old enough to take care of himself?"
"I wasn't protecting Kevin, sweetheart." His glance slid over her thoroughly. With that said he stood up, ruffled her hair and smiled. "I'm glad you're all right."
"Thanks," she said hesitantly. He was about to leave the room when her words stopped him. Tension seemed to stretch across the broad expanse of his back. "So you've married and had a family?"
"I did, and I have. But my wife's dead, Dixie."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know, Mike. I—"
"How could you? You haven't been around enough to know about anyone around here. The last time you were home, you flew in, went to the funeral and flew out before nightfall."
Dixie nodded then glanced up at him again.
"What happened?"
"Car wreck."
"I am so sorry."
"It happened a long time ago. Amanda was still a baby. She's nearly four now. She hasn't had much family. Connie's family lives in Florida, and my folks are dead, as you know. Amanda only has me—and your family and her uncle. She's latched onto Emily like a grandmother. Nothing I could do to prevent it, and I finally stopped trying. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course I don't. She's a lovely child."
Mike shuffled his feet.
Dixie pulled the covers up over her more.
"So, why haven't you remarried and given that little girl a new mother?"
"Maybe I'm still looking for the right woman." His expression told her nothing, but the frown never left his face as he strode out of the room.
Right woman? Right man? It sounded as though Mike were as displaced as she.
Memories flooded Dixie's mind. Trying to shut them out, she closed her eyes. What happened that night so long ago could never be erased or changed. Star-struck over the neighbor's younger son, Dixie had gone to the Dalton house, unaware that Kevin was attending an auction with his brother.
She had stood there for what seemed like an hour trying to make up her mind if she should wait for Kevin. Finally, she had to let herself in the house. After all, she had reasoned, it had been storming and she was saturated.
Very few people locked their doors in the country, so it seemed only logical that she let herself in. She was chilled to the bone. After checking to make sure Kevin or his brother Mike weren't in the house, she lit the kitchen oven. Her clothes were dripping wet, and she slowly peeled them off and hung them on the oven door to dry out. She went to find something to wrap up in. She found a big, white, terrycloth robe hanging behind the door in the master-bathroom. She took it down, strode back to the oven and was about to wrap herself in it when the door opened. She had only managed one arm of it, when Kevin and Mike walked into the kitchen. Kevin spotted her first and stood paralyzed to the spot. In her horror she grabbed at the robe, trying to cover herself. She let out a small cry as she fumbled with the coverings. Water still dripped from her hair, making a small puddle on the floor. Silence invaded the old house. This was not how it was supposed to happen. She merely wanted to talk to Kevin, alone, without her friends and family around. This wasn't even seductive, it was just embarrassing.
But there he stood, staring, his mouth hanging open. Kevin was unable to act or react to the situation. The look on his face was not one of a lover, but rather the look of a man stricken. He said and did nothing. It was Mike who acted.
Mike strode straight to her side, and gently pulled the robe around her. Without so much as a word, he drove her home. How he managed to get her inside her house without anyone finding out, she never knew.
Maybe it was his warning that had stuck with her, haunted her. "If I were you, I wouldn't set my cap for Kevin."
***
The next morning, Dixie glanced at her bed in dismay. It was drenched. Emily was there, offering to wash the sheets. "Perhaps I should call the doctor. You must have had a fever through the night. You look so weak."
Dixie squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm glad you didn't. I'm fine, really. You're a doll, Mom, to worry so much."
Dixie watched as Emily fussed with the bedding. Emily was still a very nice looking woman. Her brown hair was gently fading to gray, but it managed to bring out the glorious blue of her eyes. She was small and delicate looking, but Dixie knew her spirit was that of a tiger.
Will and Tom peeked through the open doorway. Two red-heads with freckles and big smiles on their faces. On their way to summer school, they were in a hurry.
It was Tom who broke the silence between the three of them as they stared at her. "We've missed you. We hope you'll stay around for a while. We don't want to sound mushy or anything, but we kinda like having you around."
Dixie smiled. "I kinda like being around. I nearly forgot what wonderful brothers I have."
Will came to stand just in front of her. "Mike told us you probably wouldn't be staying long and not to get too attached to having you here. Is that right?"
"Mike?" Again?
"He just didn't want us getting our hopes up too much. He's been like a big brother to us since you've been gone. And Mandy has sorta adopted us. They stop by all the time. He helps Mom any time she needs him. I guess we've sorta come to depend on him a lot. Anyway, we go frog giggin' together," Will said quietly as his mother hastened him out of the room.
A brother! Mike?
Alone once more, Dixie contemplated this new bit of information. It sounded as though Mike had become a permanent fixture around the place.
She let the cool morning breeze filter through the sheer nylon curtains and smiled as she listened contentedly to a mockingbird perched on a tree limb by her window. She had forgotten how peaceful it was here.
Her room seemed untouched after all this time. Everything in its rightful place, just waiting for her to come back to it. The maple bedroom set was two or three generations old and well preserved. The thick quilted bedspread with the hand embroidered spring flowers was draped across the foot of her bed. Some of her very own handiwork.
Coming home had already accomplished one thing; it brought Dixie back to earth and closer to her family.
"There's a long distance call from an Ed, dear. I'll bring the phone in to you. You stay put," Emily called from the hallway.
Feeling pampered and enjoying it, Dixie leaned back on the pillows and watched her dote. "Thanks, Mom." Sitting up in the bed she eagerly took the phone.
"Hello love," the familiar English voice on the other end of the phone had Dixie on the alert. She wished Ed wouldn't call her names like that, but he was English.
"Are you all right? I rang through last night, but they said you were ill. Naturally, I've been out of my mind worrying about you."
Dixie tried to stifle her laughter, noting the huskiness in her own voice that rattled just a little. "Well, you can stop worrying. I'm being taken care of like royalty here."
Ed seemed in no humor. "I was really worried about you," he rasped. "Are you sure everything is okay? Your voice is a little broken up."
Dixie stuck her tongue out at the receiver. "Don't be angry with me, Ed. Besides, when I thought I'd breathed my last, I thought of you."
"Stop that. Do you hear me, you ninny? Now—tell me, is everything going well? The locals giving you a hard go of it?"
"No, not at all."
"Well, despite your courage, your despondency is showing, love," he declared as though he were an authority on her moods.
She frowned at the phone again. She wasn't despondent. Exhausted maybe, but not despondent. Ed wanted to think that. He wanted her to come running. "No, Ed, everything is fine, really. But I do have a sprained ankle and I'll be hopping around here for a while."
Ed gave that strange little strangled sound he always uttered when he was upset. "A sprained ankle? I knew something bad was going to happen to you. But at least this will give you plenty of time to consider my proposal. Your voice is okay, isn't it?"
"its fine, Ed." She snarled at the phone. So much for romance. "I've got to go now. But I'll give it some thought. I promise." Her voice broke just a fraction, but she cleared it and went on, "You're winning ground all the time."
Why had she said that? She wasn't the least bit in love with Ed and she knew it. How she had suddenly reached that conclusion was beyond her comprehension, but she knew it as sure as she knew her name.
"Do you mean it?"
"Maybe by the time I get back to work, I'll have made a decision."
"Now, Dixie, this isn't a joke we're talking about. You aren't purchasing clothes or something. I happen to really love you. But I won't settle for any half measures. It's all or nothing."
"You're right. I'm sorry. I wasn't aware I made it sound so cold and calculating. But this is a big step. It's an important step, and I don't want to make any mistakes. I need some time to myself right now."
Satisfied he calmed down. "Okay, I think I understand. We have come a long way today—and on the phone at that. Dear sweet love, I wish I were there to kiss the hurts away. I miss you. These meetings are such a bore. I feel so bad over you being gone, that I might even lose an account. I wish I were there with you."
Dixie felt herself redden. "Yeah, I'll bet. You forget I've been to a few of those meetings myself, Ed. They're anything but dull. And I'm sure you don't have to be alone!"
Ed hesitated. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be . . ."
Dixie frowned. For a man in love he didn't sound too happy about it. "Don't let me spoil your fun, Ed. We aren't attached you know. We aren't even engaged. You're free to do what you want. In fact, I prefer it that way. Because when I do settle down, it'll be for good."
"You sound tired, love. I'll ring off and call you later. Get some rest," he ordered.
Dixie nodded automatically. "Yes, you're right again. I am tired." She hung up the phone and cried into her pillow until she fell asleep again. Men haunted her life. Her father died much too early in her life, Ed relied on her at work, Kevin ignored her, and Mike—she wasn't sure what Mike thought of her. Or why she suddenly cared.
CHAPTER THREE
Dixie remained in bed the entire day, letting Emily fuss over her like a child. More exhausted than she realized, Dixie basked in the attention from her family. Still, she couldn't tell them about her fear of losing her voice. It must have been all the rain. She'd strained it trying to sound normal while talking to Ed on the phone.
After her run-in with Mrs. Butie at the cemetery, the news of her arrival spread throughout the town quickly. Dixie's uncle, being the most distraught from the news, marched over to the house in nothing short of a hailstorm.
Uncle Paul was a big man, similar in many respects to a German tank. Dixie stared, wide-eyed at the thick mass of gray hair sweeping across a wide forehead that she barely recognized, and deep-set blue eyes that cut through her on contact. He pushed Emily aside as though she was a pesky fly in his way.
"So," he flagrantly admonished Dixie, giving her a quick, but thorough, glance, "you finally decided to come home, did you?" He paused, waiting only seconds before continuing his tirade. "Well? Come on, let's have it. What's in the Will?"
Dixie blinked in astonishment. What on earth was her uncle talking about? And why did he tower menacingly over her as though he meant to do her in?
Swinging her feet to the floor, she braced herself to stand—and, ignoring the wincing pain from her ankle, she looked directly at him. She knew she'd have to do battle, but she hadn't planned on doing it with her family.
"What Will? Who's Will? What are you talking about, Uncle Paul?"
His temper out of control, his voice boomed like thunder. "Don't play games with me, Dixie. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You came home to find out if your father left this house to you, didn't you?"
Dixie's mouth dropped open, and she leaned against the wall near her bed.
"I came home to rest, and visit, Uncle Paul. That's all."
"Rest hell!" he raved, his eyes narrowing. "You're not fooling anyone with that act. You're not some simple little idiot. You're here about the Will so don't try to deny it. Well … we'll settle it once and for all before you leave, I guarantee it."
What anger! But what was he talking about? The thought of a Will had never entered her mind. As far as Dixie was concerned, the house, this house, if that's what he was talking about, belonged to her stepmother, and that's all her father had to leave anyone. He hadn't been a rich man. It had absolutely nothing to do with her, and she wouldn't change it if she could.
Naturally, she hoped Emily wouldn't sell it until the boys were grown, but even so, it wasn't her or anyone else's business. Not even her uncle's.
Resting her forehead on the bedpost she hesitated to say anything, afraid she might agitate her uncle further. She hadn't come home to fight, and didn't want to fight, with anyone. Her head was spinning, and thinking became all but impossible.
She winced as she moved on her foot, and her ankle throbbed with pain even though Emily had wrapped it well. "Look, Uncle Paul, I've come home for a much needed rest. A rest—that's all. I've had a very hectic schedule for the past three years and I'm tired. Worn out. I haven't the least notion what you're raving about. Or why you're looking at me like that."
"Then start explaining!" he demanded.
"Explaining! Explaining what?"
Her Uncle's face redded.
Emily peeked her head through the doorway, then edged her way into the room slowly, guilt marring her features. Apparently from the look on her ashen face she felt completely intimidated by Uncle Paul. Dixie had to do something. Could this be the reason Emily needed Dixie's help? She could understand that. Her stepmother had been placed, innocently, into a dangerous position with Uncle Paul.
"Leave Dixie alone, Paul. Can't you see she's worn out and in pain? She's been through an ordeal." Emily weakly tried to defend her. "Why just yesterday she nearly—"
"I don't care what she's been through. I quit caring about any of you, long ago. John Kincaid had a chance to better himself years ago and wouldn't take it 'cause he couldn't imagine this land being strip-mined."
"He couldn't bear the thought …" Emily began.
"Yes, so his wife and family did without all those years, because of his stubborn foolishness. So he lost out with the money. But he had the old home place. He saved that, and I must admit I'm glad. Even if he was a fool, he saved my birthplace—my sister's and mine—your mother, Dixie. Okay, so he saved the place, now I'm here to take over. I've let this go far too long, as it is. I've merely been waiting for you to return home, so we can settle things onc
e and for all."
Emily's mouth shot open to say something.
Uncle Paul cut Emily a look of complete indifference before returning his attention to Dixie. "Stay out of this, Emily, it isn't your affair. This is Johnson business!"
Dixie felt herself turn red, as her temper flared. Johnson business indeed! "Now wait just a minute, Uncle Paul. In the first place you can't just march in here and start acting like some dictator. This is still Emily's home. Mom is as much family as you, and has been for twenty years. She practically raised Audrey and me. You can't come into her house, and talk to her like that. She's earned the right to call it her home."
An ominous black cloud seemed to hover overhead. Her uncle lowered his voice, apparently so Emily couldn't hear. "Everyone says you've come back for your inheritance."
"Then everyone is wrong," she snapped.
"Are you saying you don't care what becomes of this house, this land?" he asked.
"I'm saying I have no inheritance, here or anywhere else. I make my own way, and have for years. All my parents ever had is this house. Emily's house, no—her home. Of course I care about it. It's my folks' home. It's where Mom and the boys live. I care. But it's theirs, not mine. You better remember that, Uncle Paul. Just for your general information, that decision was made years ago, when Dad was still very much alive and well. He made his own Will, in his own handwriting, stating the house would go to Emily, as it rightfully should. The same as you would do for your family."
"By God, it should never have happened. None of this should belong to Emily, you hear? This is Johnson land. Your dad got this land when he married your mother. I intend seeing it stays Johnson land." Her Uncle's face turned red again, his veins popping out on his neck, as his temper flared once more. "Emily's not a Johnson, and you certainly don't act like one yourself. I'm ashamed to admit we're blood kin. This land belonged to your mother, your real mother. It's Johnson land and always will be—or have you forgotten that?"
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