by Lin Stepp
Grace walked home to pack a bag for herself and to let the dogs out, leaving Jack to pack and make some necessary calls to his family. She felt grateful she had no guests coming in this weekend to the bed-and-breakfast. The one family scheduled had cancelled earlier this morning.
Margaret had already left on her date with Vince. Grace wrote her a note rather than calling her. She hated to call Margaret in the middle of their dinner. Grace looked at her watch. She would call her later before the plane left. Grace smiled to herself. She also didn’t want to give Margaret the opportunity to try to talk her out of going.
After changing into some comfortable clothes for traveling, Grace picked up a small picture of the girls to look at while she waited for Jack. Lord, she hoped those girls were safe and well. She knew they’d hardly been out of the valley here in Townsend except to go to the beach or to Disneyworld in Florida once.
When she heard Jack’s knock at the door, Grace dropped the photo of the girls into her purse. They might need it later to show to someone. And Jack wasn’t the sort to carry family pictures around in his wallet.
His face looked strained as he let himself in the house.
“I made some coffee if you want a cup.” Grace smiled at him.
He glanced at his watch. “I’ll get some at the airport if we have time. I think we’d better go on. I don’t want to take any chances on getting bumped off this flight.”
She nodded, and then moved forward to slip her arms around his waist and lay her head against his chest. “It’s going to be all right, Jack. I know it. I’ve been praying here while I’ve been waiting, and I believe everything is going to be all right.”
“Ah, Grace Conley, you are such a comfort.” She felt him relax a little against her, his lips wandering over her forehead and into her hair.
He stood still for a few minutes, as if drawing strength from her, and then he pulled away. “We’d better go.”
Jack reached down to pick up her small travel bag. “Is this all?” He seemed surprised.
“Yes. Except for my little carry-on bag here. I’ve traveled a lot, Jack, and learned to travel light.”
They stayed quiet on the way to the airport, saying little. Once there, they checked in and then went through security to the airline boarding area. There they sat, flipping through magazines, until their flight was called.
To Grace’s surprise, Jack led her to the first-class section.
He actually grinned at her as they sat down. “I got a Y-Up deal, first class at coach prices because I bought at the last minute. Sweet, huh?” He leaned back with pleasure and crossed his long legs.
She smiled back at him, glad to see that devilish grin—for whatever reason. “It is certainly nice.” She looked around in admiration.
“Did you and your husband travel first class?”
“Very seldom.” Grace answered his question honestly.
She enjoyed seeing another of Jack’s smiles. She wondered if he would always compare himself with Charles—and want to know how he stacked up against Charles. Maybe it was a guy thing.
Nervously, her thoughts slid to Celine. A young movie star—and very beautiful. Would Grace look dowdy and old to Jack after he saw Celine again? It seemed inevitable they would see her. Jack had once loved Celine very much. Grace felt uncomfortable at the thought.
Jack played with the seat, looked around the compartment with interest, and explored the brochures provided by the airlines. Then he glued his nose to the window and watched the movement on the runway. Grace smiled to herself. He was like a kid—excited to be on an adventure, even if it was an unhappy one.
As they lifted off, Jack took pleasure in peering down at the scenery below as it grew smaller and smaller. “Problems seem a little less significant from this perspective, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do.”
Jack leaned back and heaved a sigh. “You know, I thought at first that Crazy Man might have taken the girls. I’ve worried that his next step might be to hurt someone ever since he followed Margaret. His old pattern of staying hidden seemed to be changing.”
“I can’t help but wonder what sort of twisted thoughts are in that man’s mind to cause him to do the things he has done.”
“Well, he certainly isn’t operating on all cylinders.”
“Has Swofford Walker come any closer to learning his identity? Found any clues?”
Jack shook his head. “None that we don’t already know about.”
Grace flipped open a fashion magazine she’d brought with her and paused to study a dress that caught her attention.
“That would look good on you.” Jack pointed to the dress. “That length of skirt and that swirly kind of material are flattering to you.”
She smiled at him. “Not many men notice those sorts of details about a woman’s clothes.”
“I told you I’ve always liked women.” He grinned. “Liked looking at them, enjoyed watching them, liked being around them. I’ve always noticed things about women—more so than most men.”
“That’s flattering to women—when you notice what they wear, what they like, the scents they use.”
He leaned toward her. “You always have that musky floral scent on. Pleasures. Your husband was right to say it suits you. It does.”
Jack leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth.
“Jack!” She pushed him back, feeling a blush steal up her cheeks. She looked around furtively to see if anyone had noticed. “We’re in a public place.”
He traced a finger over her lips before he sat back into his seat. “I’m glad you came with me, Grace. It will be a long six hours. I’ll be glad for some company. It will keep me from worrying so.”
“Do you think Celine would really hurt the girls?”
He shrugged. “Not maliciously, I don’t think. But she’s self-absorbed and not very responsible. She wasn’t the best mother even for the short time she was with our girls. Hated to get up in the night with them. Got cross and agitated when they cried. Resented it when they were needy when she was engrossed in a movie. Always wanting to get a sitter and go out.”
“I don’t see much of that character in the girls.”
“Thank God for that.”
“And they look more like you with their brown eyes and dimples.”
“Their hair has a touch of red like their mother’s. They didn’t get the Teague black hair.” He ran a hand through his own hair. “I’m starting to turn white-headed like my mother. My father, too.”
“It’s very attractive.” She looked at the threads of silver gray running through Jack’s hair.
He studied her. “You’re not graying at all yet. And you’re about the same age I am.”
Grace laughed. “I’ve only seen a rare gray hair so far. And I plucked it out as soon as I did.”
Jack chuckled in reply. “If I did that, I’d soon be bald.”
She looked over at him with warmth. “I love the way you look, Jack. And I like looking at you, too.”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t flirt with me, woman. It feels intimate in this plane, and it will be growing dark soon. You might give me ideas.”
Grace studied her hands, feeling shy—but as always enjoying his compliments.
“I’m not sure you should have gotten linked up with a man like me, Grace. But I’m glad you did.”
They sat back in silence for a few moments.
“Tell me how you met Charles,” Jack asked.
Surprised at the question, Grace’s eyes flew up to Jack’s.
He met her gaze. “We’ve never talked about it. And I’ve been curious. I told you about how I met Celine. Got fascinated by her and squired her around when she did a movie in the Townsend area. Ended up marrying her.”
Grace nodded and searched her memory for where to begin her story about Charles. “You remember I told you that I modeled part-time while in college. Well, the agency I worked for in Nashville sent me over to Conley Carpets one day for a shoot. Charles w
as there, of course. He was older than I, already graduated from Vanderbilt, and helping his father to run the business.”
A faint smile played on her lips. “I knew he found me attractive. I could tell by the way he watched me. We talked at the break. Later, he invited me to lunch. We found so many things to talk about then. Enjoyed each other much more than we expected to. It surprised us both, I think. He began to call me after that. To take me out.”
“Margaret said he was a good man.”
Her eyes lifted to his in surprise. “Margaret talked to you about Charles?”
He shrugged a shoulder carelessly. “We were both talking about losing a parent one day. I wasn’t probing, Grace. She painted a nice picture of her father.”
“He was a good man. Hardworking, ambitious, bright. He truly loved the business—and loved the socializing that went along with being a major business owner in the Nashville area.” Grace paused. “Charles liked having money, liked knowing people with money and doing things that moneyed people do. Much more than I did. I hadn’t been raised in society. My roots began in a small town around simpler people. Sometimes, I thought we were the most different in that.”
“Because he had money?”
“No. Because it mattered so much to him. That he ranked and rated people by how much they had. I felt uncomfortable with that.”
“He left you well-to-do?” The statement was a question.
“Yes. Several generations of Conleys had built the business by the time Charles inherited. He left me a generous income and left a lot to the children, too, in trusts. And, of course, he left the boys the business.”
Jack reached down to scratch his ankle, shifting in his seat, already restless before even an hour of their flight was finished. “Are the boys coming around about your having moved over here?”
“A little, although Elaine and Margaret seem to understand more. I think the boys still feel they lost an aspect of control that was their due. They are very much like their father in that. He was a bit chauvinistic.”
“And you were okay with that?” Jack looked surprised.
Grace considered his question. “It was flattering at first, I guess. Charles was older, and he had a very strong character. It was easy to let him take the lead, easy to just follow. I suppose it became a pattern. It’s easy to get into patterns, you know—even if they aren’t the best for you in every way.”
“Tell me about it.” Jack’s words were sarcastic, but touched with humor.
“Then with four children, all their involvements, my civic groups and volunteer work, and all our business and social activities—my time was full. I didn’t feel really suppressed or unfulfilled, except at odd moments.”
“And how did you feel at odd moments?” He was watching her, sincerely interested.
She smiled at him. “Like I was only someone’s wife, someone’s mother, someone people always called on to head committees, to bring a dish, to plan an event. In odd moments, I wished I could be someone on my own.”
Grace leaned back in her seat, remembering. “Sometimes I would meet a woman who had really accomplished things beyond being a good wife, mother, and civic leader. I’d envy her—so polished, confident, sure of herself. And, then, of course, like a typical woman, I’d find a way to tear her down in my mind—to try to make myself feel my choices were better than hers. That my life was the richer.”
“Why do women do that? Compare themselves against each other that way?”
“You don’t think men do?” She lifted a brow.
“Not in the same way. And I don’t think they’re as vicious.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s from being a minority group for so long. Men have never had to strive for their identity like women have. Men have always had a clearer life path, clearer expectations. But women, they’ve always been torn—wanting and needing two things and finding it hard to do both of them well.”
“Hmmmm. I guess I never really saw that struggle very much in my mother. She seemed to always realize she needed to be involved in the business. And Bebe always seemed happy at home, taking care of Roger and me, doing the home thing.”
“Well, I felt some conflict. Many women do.”
Jack turned to look at her. “I think Charles contributed to that, Grace. I think he wanted you to stay at home, tending to him, second to him, dependent on him. Some strong men are like that. And they have subtle ways of discouraging a woman from seeking more, from finding her own success, her own way. I’m not saying that they belittle her, but they have subtle ways of encouraging her to stay right where they want her.”
Grace raised her eyebrows and turned to look at him. “Funny. My mother said the same thing. She said she felt Charles and his mother had kept me from developing. And that she worried that I’d lost something of myself over the years in the process.”
Jack picked up the magazine off Grace’s lap and flipped its pages. “And do you think you’ve found the real Grace Conley now?”
Grace’s face flamed. “Don’t tease me, Jack. And, yes, I do think I’ve found myself in a sense, come into my own more. I like who I am now.” She raised her chin.
“So do I. And I didn’t mean to tease you.” Jack gave her a roguish grin and leaned over to kiss her unexpectedly. “I like who you are very much, Grace Conley.”
Caught off guard, Grace struggled with conflicting feelings, not knowing how to reply. He’d gotten her to reveal much more than she’d intended to.
Jack held her chin in his hand for a moment and looked at her with an intense gaze. “I like strong women, Grace. They don’t threaten me one bit. You can keep becoming all you want to be with me. I’ll enjoy watching it happen, enjoy celebrating all your successes with you. I’ll never try to hold you back.”
“Thank you.” Grace wasn’t sure what else to say.
He leaned closer to her and gave her a slow grin. “In my experience, strong women are very passionate in bed. I like thinking about that.”
“Jack Teague!” Grace looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Watch what you say! Are you always thinking about sex?”
“No. But it comes up a lot in my mind.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “Especially when I’m around you.”
She blushed. “We’re supposed to be on a rescue mission, thinking foremost about your little girls.”
“I know. But you’ve given me a pleasant diversion. And something else to think about—instead of just letting my stomach churn up in knots with worry. I thank you for that.” He gave her another quick kiss and patted her on the leg, much too intimately and much too high on her thigh, his fingers trailing into the dip between her legs.
Grace felt herself respond to his touch, and pulled her legs together tightly. She saw Jack smile before he sat back in his seat.
Their whole flight was like that. They talked and shared about their past, and, in between, Jack made passes at her. Flattered her. Teased her with small intimacies. As darkness fell outside and the plane flew through the evening hours toward California, it seemed the sense of intimacy between them heightened.
Grace had thought she would spend six hours with a man torn up with anxiety and worry, talking constantly of the problems that might lie ahead. That she’d console him and comfort him, be his strength and try to calm his anger. It’s what she’d always done with Charles when he got upset, she realized. He’d have worried himself all the way to California, imagining all the scenarios that might occur, being angry and annoyed over all the factors he couldn’t control. Looking back at what he might have done to prevent the situation in the first place. Talking about how he’d handle things differently in the future. But here, Grace found herself in new waters. Jack was a very different man. And Grace found herself a very different woman when she was with him.
They were both quiet and resting now as the plane flew through its last leg toward the huge Los Angeles airport. Jack had let his arm drift off the armrest onto Grace’s leg, and Grace had allowed herself to lea
n up against Jack’s shoulder. They’d drifted into an hour’s sleep like this. Back in Townsend, it was well after midnight now.
Grace sighed. “I hope Morgan and Meredith are all right.”
“We’ll be there soon.” Jack breathed deeply.
“You won’t be too hard on them, will you, Jack?”
He looked over at her with sleepy eyes. “You can’t always know what you will do in a situation until you get there and see how the land lies, Grace.” Jack squeezed her hand. “Try to get some rest. We might have a long night ahead.”
Shortly before eleven p.m. Pacific time, they finally arrived in the Los Angeles airport. Grace regretted they couldn’t look down on the city as they descended. All she could see from the plane window, when she leaned across Jack, was a sea of city lights.
They both were stiff when they stood up to depart. Grace watched Jack roll his shoulders and neck to get the kinks out. Her knees felt stiff and sore. Jack took her hand as they walked off the plane, and Grace thought it a sweet gesture. The airport was crowded with throngs of people everywhere as they made their way out of the arrival area.
A man separated himself from the crowd as they looked around and came toward them with a hand held out. He gave them a slight smile and a nod. “Cole Strader here, LAPD. You must be Jack Teague. Swofford Walker gave us a pretty good description.”
Jack took his hand in a strong grip. Grace watched them assess each other quickly as men often do. Detective Strader was tall, of medium build, balding a little on the top of his head. He wouldn’t stand out in a crowd until you looked at his eyes—strong and compelling, revealing a depth and intelligence not evident at first glance.
Jack introduced her. “This is my neighbor, Grace Conley. She’s very close to my girls. I thought we might need a woman’s touch.” He grinned then. “Plus, the woman was determined to come with me.”
Cole let a small smile turn up the edges of his mouth. “Women can have a strong mind about things sometimes.”
It had been a long time since Grace had been in the Los Angeles airport. She’d forgotten how large it was—and how culturally diverse. Cole Strader led them through the airport with ease and efficiency to get their bags, and on to his car. It was waiting at the front of the airport, another officer driving. The officer was introduced as Officer Parks. He stood shorter and paunchier than Detective Strader, with a warmer, more congenial face.
