Best Kept Secrets

by Sandra Brown

  Sarah Jo gave a negligent wave of her hand. “No matter. It’s the truth. I knew she was common and coarse the first time I met her. Oh, she was pretty, in a lush, flamboyant way. Much like you.”

  Her eyes moved over Alex critically. Alex was tempted to get up and walk out. The only thing that kept her sitting in that spindly chair was the hope that Sarah Jo would inadvertently impart some scrap of valuable information.

  “Your mother laughed too loud, played too hard, loved too well. Emotions were to her what a bottle of liquor is to a drunkard. She overindulged, and had no control over exhibiting her feelings.”

  “She sounds very honest,” Alex said with pride. “The world might be better off if people openly expressed what they were feeling.” Her words fell on deaf ears.

  “Whatever a man needed or wanted her to be at the moment,” Sarah Jo continued, “she was. Celina was an unconscionable flirt. Every man she met fell in love with her. She made certain of it. She would do anything to guarantee it.”

  Enough was enough. “I won’t let you disparage a woman who’s not around to defend herself. It’s ugly and cruel of you, Mrs. Minton.” The room, which had been as fresh as a greenhouse when she had come in, now seemed suffocating. She had to get out. “I’m leaving.”

  “Not yet.” Sarah Jo stood up when Alex did. “Celina loved Reede as much as she was capable of loving anyone except herself.”

  “What concern was that of yours?”

  “Because she wanted Junior, too, and she let him know it. Your grandmother, that stupid woman, was giddy over the idea of a match between our children. As if I’d let Junior marry Celina,” she sneered. “Merle Graham even called me once and suggested that we, as future in-laws, get together and become better acquainted. God, I would have sooner died! She was a telephone operator,” she said, laughing scornfully.

  “There was never any chance of Celina Graham becoming my daughter-in-law. I made that quite clear to your grandmother and to Junior. He moped and whined over that girl until I wanted to scream.” She raised her small fists, as though she still might do so. “Why couldn’t he see her for what she was—a selfish, manipulative little bitch? And now you.”

  She stepped around the small tea table to confront Alex. Alex was taller, but Sarah Jo had years of cultivated anger to make her strong. Her delicate body was trembling with wrath.

  “Lately, all he can talk about is you, just like it used to be with Celina.”

  “I have not led Junior on, Mrs. Minton. There could never be a romantic entanglement between us. We could be friends, maybe, once this investigation is resolved.”

  “Don’t you see,” Sarah Jo cried, “that’s exactly how it was with her? She abused his friendship because he was clinging to the vain hope that it would develop into something deeper. All he is to you is a suspect in a murder case. You’ll use him, just like your mother did.”

  “That simply isn’t true.”

  Sarah Jo swayed, as though about to swoon. “Why did you have to come here?”

  “I want to know why my mother was murdered.”

  “You’re the reason!” she said, pointing a finger straight at Alex’s heart. “Celina’s illegitimate baby.”

  Alex fell back a step, sucking in a sharp, painful breath. “What did you say?” she gasped.

  Sarah Jo composed herself. The suffusion of color in her face receded and it returned to its normal porcelain hue. “You were illegitimate.”

  “That’s a lie,” Alex denied breathlessly. “My mother was married to Al Gaither. I’ve seen the marriage license. Grandma Graham saved it.”

  “They were married, but not until after she came back from El Paso and discovered she was pregnant.”

  “You’re a liar!” Alex gripped the back of the chair. “Why are you lying to me?”

  “It’s not a lie. The reason I’m telling you should be clear. I’m trying to protect my family from your vengeful destruction. Being the richest woman in this horrid, ugly little town is the only thing that makes it tolerable. I like being married to the most influential man in the county. I won’t let you destroy everything Angus has created for me. I won’t let you cause dissent in my family. Celina did. This time, I won’t allow it.”

  “Ladies, ladies.” Junior came into the room, laughing indulgently. “What is all the shouting about? See a spider?”

  His manner changed drastically when he sensed the seething animosity between them. It was sulfuric, as real as the ozone in the air after lightning has struck nearby. “Mother? Alex? What’s wrong?”

  Alex stared at Sarah Jo, whose face was as serene and complacent as a cameo. Alex spun toward the door, sending the small chair toppling over. She rushed from the room and clambered down the stairs.

  Junior gave his mother a searching look. She turned her back on him and returned to the divan, picked up her teacup, and took a sip.

  Junior raced down the stairs after Alex and caught up with her at the front door, where she was unsuccessfully trying to work her arms into the sleeves of her coat.

  He grabbed her upper arms. “What the hell is going on?”

  Alex averted her head so he wouldn’t see her tears. She tried to disengage his hands. “Nothing.”

  “You hardly look like you’ve been to a tea party.”

  “Tea, ha!” Alex said, tossing back her head. “She didn’t invite me out here to drink tea.” She sniffed and batted her eyes in an effort to keep the tears from falling. “I guess I should thank her for telling me.”

  “Telling you what?”

  “That I was a biological accident.” Junior’s face went blank with shock. “It’s true, then, isn’t it?” Junior’s hands fell away from her arms and he tried to turn away. Reversing their positions, Alex gripped his arm and forced him back around. “Isn’t it?” Her tears finally overflowed her eyelids. “Say something, Junior!”

  He looked uncomfortable with admitting the truth. It was Alex who verbally pieced together the scenario.

  “Celina came back from El Paso. She’d had her fling with a soldier and was ready to reconcile with Reede. They probably would have, too, if it hadn’t been for me, right?” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God, no wonder he hates me so much.”

  Junior pulled her hands away from her face and looked at her with sincere blue eyes. “Reede doesn’t hate you, Alex. None of us did then, or do now.”

  She laughed shortly, bitterly. “I’ll bet Albert Gaither hated the very thought of me. He was forced to get married.” Her eyes went round, and she spoke in a rapid, short-winded, staccato voice. “This explains so much. So much. Why Grandma Graham was strict about my dating—who I went with, what time I got home, where I’d been.

  “I resented her for being so inflexible because I’d never given her any reason to mistrust me. I guess her overprotectiveness was justified, wasn’t it?” Her voice rose to a near-hysterical pitch. “Her daughter got knocked up, and twenty-five years ago, that was still a definite sin.”

  “Alex, stop this.”

  “That explains why Grandma never really loved me. I ruined Celina’s life, and she never forgave me for it. Celina couldn’t have Reede, couldn’t have you, couldn’t have a future. And all because of me. Oh, God!”

  The curse, or prayer, was cried in a wailing voice. Alex turned away from him and yanked the door open. She ran across the porch and down the steps toward her car.

  “Alex!” He started after her.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Angus demanded as Alex rushed past him toward her car.

  “Leave her alone, you two.” Sarah Jo was standing at the top of the stairs, where she had watched and overheard everything.

  Junior spun around. “Mother, how could you? How could you hurt Alex that way?”

  “I didn’t tell her to hurt her.”

  “What’d you tell her?” Angus asked. He filled up the open doorway, baffled and impatient because no one was answering his questions.

  “Of course it hurt her,
” Junior said. “You knew it would. Why tell her at all?”

  “Because she needed to know. The only one who can hurt Alex is Alex herself. She’s chasing an illusion. The mother she’s looking for didn’t exist in Celina Gaither. Merle filled her head with a lot of nonsense about how wonderful Celina was. She forgot to tell the girl how devious her mother was. It was time Alex found out.”

  “Shit!” Angus cursed. “Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  Chapter 26

  Angus quietly closed the bedroom door behind him as he came in. Sarah Jo, propped against the pillows on their bed, laid her book aside and peered at him over the rims of the glasses that were perched on the tip of her nose. “Coming to bed so early?”

  She looked about as harmful as a butterfly, but Angus knew that her frail appearance camouflaged an iron will. If she ever gave ground it was out of indifference, not defeat. “I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “About what happened this afternoon.”

  She pressed her fingers to her temples. “It gave me quite a headache. That’s why I didn’t come down to dinner.”

  “Taken anything?”

  “Yes. It’s better now.”

  They had repeated this same exchange regarding her headaches nearly every day of their marriage.

  “Don’t sit on the bedspread,” she scolded as he lowered himself to the edge of the bed. He waited until she had folded back the quilted satin spread, then sat down close to her hip. “My, you look so downcast tonight, Angus,” she said with concern. “What’s the matter? Not more maniacs on our property, I hope.”

  “No.”

  “Thank God the only horse that was injured belonged to Reede.”

  Angus let that pass without comment. Sarah Jo resented Reede, and Angus knew why. Her feelings toward him would never change, so berating her for the uncharitable remark would serve no purpose.

  What he had come to discuss was a delicate subject. He took a moment to choose his words carefully. “Sarah Jo, about this afternoon—”

  “I was quite upset by it,” she said, drawing her lips into a pretty frown.

  “You were upset?” Angus forcibly tamped down his impatience. He needed to hear her side of the story before jumping to conclusions. “What about Alex’s feelings?”

  “She was upset, too, naturally. Wouldn’t you be if you’d found out you were a bastard?”

  “No,” he said with a gruff, humorless laugh. “Wouldn’t surprise me if I was. I never checked to see if my parents had a marriage license, and it wouldn’t have mattered to me if they didn’t.” His brows drew together. “But I’m an ornery old cuss, and Alex is a sensitive young woman.”

  “I felt that she was strong enough to take it.”

  “Obviously, she wasn’t. She ran past me without even seeing me. She was practically in hysterics when she left.”

  Sarah Jo’s smile crumpled. “Are you blaming me for telling her? Do you think it was wrong?”

  When she looked up at him with that apprehensive, little-lost-girl look, his heart melted. It always had. Angus took her hand. He could have crushed it like a flower between his rough palms, but he had learned over the years not to exert too much pressure when he caressed her.

  “I’m not blaming you for telling her, honey. I’m just questioning the wisdom of it. I wish you had discussed it with Junior and me before you did. It was something she could have gone throughout her life not knowing.”

  “I disagree,” Sarah Jo argued petulantly.

  “What difference does it make now if her mama and daddy weren’t married until after she was in the oven? Hell, that’s so commonplace now it’s not even considered a sin anymore.”

  “It makes a difference in the way she views Celina. Up until now, she’s had her on a pedestal.”

  “So what?”

  “Celina hardly deserves a pedestal,” Sarah Jo snapped. “I thought it was time everybody stopped pussyfooting around with Alex and set her straight about her mother.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because she’s trying to ruin us, that’s why. I decided to stop catering to her and to fight back. I used the only ammunition I had.” As usual, during scenes like this, Sarah Jo became overwrought. “I was only trying to protect you and Junior.”

  Actually, Angus thought, it had taken a tremendous amount of courage for Sarah Jo to confront a self-assured woman like Alex. He still thought Sarah Jo could have refrained from telling Alex about her folks, but her motive had been unselfish. She’d been protecting her family. Her valiant effort deserved better than his criticism. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

  “I appreciate your fighting spirit, but none of us needs your protection, honey.” He laughed at the thought. “How could a little thing like you protect one of us big, strapping boys? I’ve got plenty of money and plenty of know-how to handle any little problem that crops up. A redhead that only stands five feet six inches tall is hardly worth a second’s worry.”

  “If you could resurrect that odious Pasty Hickam, I’m sure he would disagree,” she said. “Look what happened to him. Unlike you and Junior, and obviously, every other man, I’m immune to the girl’s charms.” Her voice developed an edge of desperation. “Angus, can’t you see it? Junior is falling in love with her.”

  “I fail to see why that’s so god-awful,” he said with a beaming smile.

  “It would be a disaster,” Sarah Jo cried softly. “Her mother broke his heart. Don’t you care about that?”

  Frowning, Angus reminded her, “That was a long time ago. And Alex isn’t like her mother.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Sarah Jo stared into space.

  “Alex isn’t fickle and flighty like Celina was,” he said. “She’s a tad too bossy, but maybe Junior needs that. He walked all over his other wives, and they laid down and let him do it. Maybe he needs a wife who’ll tell him what’s what.”

  “Where is he, by the way? Is he still angry with me?” she asked anxiously.

  “He was upset, but he’ll get over it, like he always does. He said he was going out to get drunk.”

  They laughed together. Sarah Jo was the first to turn serious again. “I hope he’ll drive safely.”

  “He, uh, will probably be spending the night out.”

  “Oh?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Angus said. “Alex needs some time to sort herself out. Junior might be carrying a torch, but he’s not dead from the waist down. He’ll find a woman who’ll give him the comfort he needs tonight.”

  His gaze lowered to his wife’s décolletage, which was smooth and luminescent with the body powder she had used after her bath. “He’s got a man’s appetites, just like his daddy.”

  “Oh, Angus,” she sighed wearily, as his hand waded through layers of lace in search of her breast.

  “I could use some comforting myself.”

  “You men! Is that all you ever think about? You make me—”

  “You make me horny.”

  “Don’t use that kind of language. It’s crude. And I don’t want to do this tonight. My headache’s coming back.”

  His kiss cut off any further objections. She submitted, as he knew she would. She always put up token resistance, but she never refused him. From the cradle, she had been coached to accept her marital duties, just as she had to properly serve tea.

  That she responded to him out of a sense of obligation rather than passion didn’t stop him from wanting her; it might even have enhanced his desire. Angus enjoyed a challenge.

  He undressed quickly and lowered himself on top of her. He fumbled with the buttons on her gown and finally managed, with no assistance from her, to get it open. Her breasts were as pert and shapely as they had been on their wedding night, when he had first beheld and touched them.

  He kissed them now with polite restraint. Her nipples were small. His stroking tongue was rarely successful in coaxing them erect. He doubted she knew they were supposed t
o get erect, unless some of those novels she read were more sexually explicit than he suspected.

  She winced slightly when he entered her. He pretended not to see her grimace. He tried not to sweat or make a sound or do anything that she would consider nasty and unpleasant.

  He saved all his raunchiness for the widow lady he supported in the neighboring county. She didn’t mind his crude language. In fact, she hooted with laughter over some of his more colorful expressions.

  She was as lusty a lover as he. She had large, dark, milky-tasting nipples that she would let him diddle with for hours if he wanted to. She even went down on him and let him go down on her. Each time he mounted her, her round thighs gripped his ass like a vise. She was a noisy comer, and the only woman he’d ever met who could laugh in downright joy while she was screwing.

  They’d been together for over twenty years. She never asked for more of a commitment; she didn’t expect one. They had a damn good time together, and he didn’t know what he would do without her in his life, but he didn’t love her.

  He loved Sarah Jo. Or, at least, he loved what she was: dainty and pure and refined and beautiful. He loved her as an art collector would love a sculpture or priceless alabaster that was to be touched only on special occasions, and then with the utmost care.

  Because she demanded it, he always wore a condom, and when he was done, he removed it carefully so her silk sheets wouldn’t get soiled. While he was doing so tonight, he watched Sarah Jo fold down the hem of her nightgown, rebutton the buttons, and straighten the covers.

  Angus got back in bed, kissed her cheek, and put his arms around her. He loved holding her tiny body against his, loved touching her smooth, fragrant skin. He wanted to cherish her. To his disappointment, she removed his arm and said, “Go on to sleep now, Angus. I want to finish this chapter.”

  She reopened her novel, which was no doubt as dry and lifeless as her lovemaking. Angus was ashamed of the disloyal thought as he rolled to his other side, away from the light of her reading lamp.