Perfect Family

by Potter, Patricia;

  He picked out a volume and brought it to her. She looked at it, a rare memoir of a confederate officer under Colonel Mosby, the gray ghost of the Confederacy. It was expensive. She named the price, and he pulled out a wallet that looked thick with bills.

  “Do you wish me to wrap it?”

  “No,” he said. He looked around again. “It’s an interesting shop.”

  Did she hear any nuances? Or was her imagination running wild?

  Her gaze followed him out the door. There was no satisfaction in the sale, as she wondered whether she would have a cold chill every time the door opened.

  The week passed slowly. The new locks did not give her a sense of security. Nor were any of her questions answered. Sol’s friend was out of town, and they decided to wait until he returned to retrieve the book from its place of safety.

  Her thoughts continually returned to the sun-kissed red formations of Arizona—the clean, clear skies and the untamed beauty of high desert. Her nights were haunted by thoughts of Ross and all of his complexities. She thought of the two times she’d seen him relax: the restaurant and those brief moments in his home. She remembered the kiss and her body tingled and ached.

  Good girls always like bad boys. Where had she heard that? Probably the same place that she’d heard such relationships never work. She told herself that people can’t change others, not the core of them. The essence of their soul. But women kept trying.

  Ross, even if he was innocent of rape, was a loner. He would always be a loner.

  She kept trying to banish him from her thoughts, but he wouldn’t stay vanquished. His arresting face kept appearing in the oddest places. The car. The shop. A restaurant. She would see a dark head and her senses would reel. Then the head would turn, and it was someone else, and her heart plummeted.

  She found herself reaching for the phone with more eagerness than before, hoping against hope she would hear the low lazy rumble of his voice …

  Jessie shook her head as she bent over the account books. She knew he wouldn’t call. He thought she believed him capable of rape. And she had, for the briefest of time, when the shock of his words had stunned her and carried her back to a long-ago night. Until she had time to think about it, and exactly what he’d said.

  She tried to concentrate on the account books. That was her job. Sol’s was the acquisition of books, and even now he was at some estate sale and she was alone at the store. It was empty, as it usually was on a weekday morning. Ben, who always accompanied her to the store now, was at her side, his head resting on one of her feet.

  It was Friday. Saturday would be busy. She would work in her garden on Sunday. The thought usually made her happy, but instead she just felt … empty. She hadn’t realized until now how much she’d isolated herself, how hesitant she’d been to make deep friendships. Except for Sol, she’d been afraid to trust anyone.

  Maybe she would go riding Sunday. She had started to look in the Yellow Pages for a riding stable when the phone rang. She bit her lip for a moment, trying to keep her hand from reaching for it too eagerly, then picked it up.

  Before she could say the name of the store, she heard Alex’s voice. “Jessica?”

  “Alex?”

  “The same,” he said with that soothing confident tone of his. “I have news. The DNA results came back. You are a Clements. Your father was Harding Clements.”

  For some reason, the news stunned her. She had come to believe it in her mind. The photos of her and Sarah were too similar, the younger and older ones of her father too telling. And yet her heart hadn’t yet accepted it. She didn’t realize that until this very moment. It was proof positive that her entire life had been a lie. That her father had a secret so terrible that he had deprived himself, and her, of a heritage, of roots, of family.

  “Jessica?”

  “I’m here,” she replied, knowing her words were strained.

  “Can you return for a few days? There are things that must be discussed, papers to be signed.”

  She couldn’t speak. She felt as if a huge weight had been placed on her back. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to carry it. Or even wanted to.

  “I’m … busy right now,” she finally replied.

  He hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, “I didn’t want to tell you this, but I think I should. Sarah’s ill.”

  Jessie’s hand balled into a fist. “What? How?”

  “She has a bad heart.”

  “No one said anything to me about it.”

  “I don’t think anyone knows but me. I didn’t know myself until the DNA test proved you were a blood relative. She came to me because she wanted to make a new will.”

  Jessie waited. She knew whatever was to come was not good.

  “I can’t go into it now. She needs to tell you. Please come, Jessica. Just for a few days.”

  “I can’t just up and leave whenever you call. I have a business. A dog.” Even to her own ears, it sounded weak. She frantically tried to think of other excuses. She wasn’t ready for this. She hadn’t entirely accepted the fact she had a new family, and now she was being told that one of the two members she really cared about might be dying. The other didn’t want anything to do with her.

  Alex’s voice became soothing, coaxing. “Hell, we’ll fly the dog in. Marc is gone. There’s plenty of room at the ranch house. It will mean everything to Sarah.”

  Jessie wavered. That damn impulse to try to please everyone. In truth, she found she didn’t want to say no. Something in her hungered to return, despite all the emotional warning signs frantically waving at her.

  The Sunset was her roots.

  “I’ll have to talk to Sol,” she said, even as she knew he heard the surrender in her voice.

  “Call me back as soon as you can,” he said. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll do this my way.” She hadn’t figured out yet what her way would be, but she knew she had to fight for her independence, to remain neutral, even apart. She feared being torn asunder if she did not.

  “But you will call me?”

  “Yes.”

  She hung up the phone very carefully. As if sensing her careening emotions, Ben whined beside her.

  “Ah, Ben,” she said. “What have I done? I really thought I was finished with Wonderland.”

  She leaned back in her one extravagance in the shop, a cushioned swivel chair, and looked around. It was everything familiar, everything comfortable.

  But she hungered for the high desert, the spectacular scenery, the clean air and the clear nights. She’d felt from the first sight of it that she belonged, that it was the home place she’d always missed.

  And Ross?

  She hungered for him, too. Or did he just represent the land that had so enchanted her? The lonely splendor that touched her soul as nothing else had.

  Jessie wondered whether she was willing to risk everything to discover whether it was all a mirage, a siren song that only meant disaster.

  But she would never forgive herself if she didn’t find out.

  sixteen

  SEDONA, ARIZONA

  Sarah put down the phone receiver. Jessie was returning.

  She sat down heavily. She wished she weren’t so tired. Sometimes her heart hurt so badly she thought she wouldn’t live through another day. She wanted to live long enough to ensure the safety of the Sunset. She wanted even more to leave her son a piece of it.

  An era was disappearing. A way of life fading into something called progress. The Sunset was one of the last remaining working ranches in the area. The rest had been redesigned into dude ranches, or bed-and-breakfast inns or resorts.

  Was it so wrong to keep alive just one? Somehow she had to persuade Jessica to help her do that.

  Sarah didn’t know what had made Jessie flee days earlier. She only knew that the girl had done exactly that. Fled. From her. From the Sunset. From her heritage.

  And she wasn’t a tender shoot easily bruised. She had s
trength. Sarah knew that when she hadn’t panicked the night she’d lost her way. The family hadn’t daunted her. But what most impressed Sarah was that she’d never asked for a thing.

  She’d known then what she had to do. She’d kept her failing health from the family. Now she wasn’t above using it to bring the girl back. She’d didn’t have enough time to play fair.

  She’d realized that she could die at any time. Unfortunately, Ross couldn’t inherit her share of the ranch. But a blood relative could. And there was only one that she would trust with the Sunset. She had meant to tell Jessie the moment the DNA tests were confirmed, but the girl disappeared into her other life. She’d sent yellow roses to Sarah, though, a thoughtful thank-you.

  When the DNA results came in, Sarah had asked Alex to plead with Jessie to return, to use her health if necessary.

  She had expected an argument. Strangely enough, she didn’t receive one. Instead, he’d merely suggested that she would probably outlive them all. It was then, and only then, that she told him there was some urgency to the matter. His subsequent phone conversation with Jessica, as related to her, had been disappointing. She hadn’t refused to come, but she hadn’t caught the first plane, either. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the girl wasn’t as enchanted with the Sunset as Sarah had thought.

  Sarah thought she’d seen that glimmer of belonging in her eyes when they’d ridden together up to the Saddle. But then Marc … damn him.

  She’d never had a chance to reassure her, to tell her that Marc’s accusations were only a reflex reaction against what he considered an obstacle in the way of something he wanted. Marc and Ross had always been like oil and water. Despite the fact that Marc, the golden child, had been much older, he’d always resented Ross, and particularly his father’s trust in him.

  But he must know that Ross would never hurt him. He’d also known that even the slightest inference would set the police on Ross. Her son had never recovered from the accusation of rape, even after the girl recanted.

  She sighed. She hoped Jessie would return. Perhaps they—she and Jessica—could go for another ride, a less eventful one. She looked at Jessie and saw herself, though she hoped Jessie wouldn’t make the same mistakes she’d made.

  Or were they mistakes? Was loving too much a mistake? She’d forgiven her husband so many times she’d stopped counting them. She’d loved him so much that his son became her son, and she’d loved Ross with every fiber of her being. He made up for the children she hadn’t borne, that she’d so badly wanted. God had not seen fit to bless her. Because of what she’d once done?

  She’d tried to protect the people she loved, no matter what she’d had to do. She’d forgiven their faults, made excuses for them, covered for them. Perhaps she’d shouldn’t have always done that with Harding. Perhaps then …

  Sarah fought back tears. So many losses over the years.

  Jessie offered her another chance. A chance to save the Sunset, to keep Ross here, even to save the entire family from tearing itself apart. If only she had the book … or knew where it was.

  She often wondered whether Harding had thrown it away. Or perhaps Jessie wasn’t aware of what she had? She had hoped to gain her niece’s trust, but Marc and his accusations had obviously spooked her.

  This time she would make sure everything went well. Thank God, Marc was back in Washington.

  Jessie missed the anticipation she’d felt on her first drive up to Sedona. Her pleasure was now muted by a certain wariness.

  There had been myriad reasons for her return so soon: Sarah’s health, the growing necessity to get answers to questions. The fear invading her life.

  She had been stunned by it, by the apprehension she felt now when strangers entered the store and every time there was a knock on her cottage door. Her safe, quiet world had been disrupted. She wanted to know why. She’d worked too hard to conquer the fear that had haunted her after the rape, after the death of her father. She wasn’t going to surrender to it again. Not without a fight.

  She didn’t want an inheritance, not if it contained the strings she was beginning to feel were attached. But she did want information. She wanted to feel safe again.

  Sarah had the answers.

  At least, her safe-deposit box was secure. She’d checked that before leaving, had even changed boxes although she’d been assured by a bank officer that she had nothing to worry about. They had safeguards. Still, she felt better.

  She tried to relax as she fought the heavy traffic out of Phoenix. She’d been nervous the last time. But then she was going to meet a family she could either reject and accept, and its members could do the same. Now she might have the power to make a difference in its future.

  It was a power she didn’t want.

  She reached down with one hand and ran her fingers through Ben’s fur. She had decided to bring him, partly because of the disquiet that gnawed at her. He had survived one burglary. He might not survive another. There was another reason. She needed a friend, and he was the only one she was sure didn’t want anything from her. At least nothing but an occasional demonstration of love.

  He’d endured the flight well, although he had given her an indignant look when she’d fetched him at the luggage department. She’d worried then that she’d made a mistake bringing him, but he was her family, and Alex had extended an invitation. She wanted him safe at her side.

  She only wished that she’d had time to wait on Sol’s friend to study the primer. But that would have been another week. And after Alex’s call, she’d felt an urgency to return.

  Be truthful. It was Ross as well. She hadn’t taken the time to pick apart his words that afternoon before she’d left. Now she had. She realized what he’d said and what he hadn’t said. She’d reacted to one word.

  Perhaps because she knew the route now, it seemed no time at all until she drove up to the ranch house. The front drive was empty except for Ross’s pickup. Her heart thumped loudly. She wondered whether he was out on a horse or nearby.

  Her question was answered immediately when she saw him emerge from the barn. Timber was at his side. Their eyes met. He hesitated, then started toward the car.

  She got out, keeping Ben inside the car until she knew how Timber would react. Her breath caught in her throat as he walked toward her. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his thick dark hair looked as if his fingers had combed it. She’d almost forgotten how tall he was, how he turned her insides to quivering jelly.

  He’s dangerous, she reminded herself. Even if the rape charge was not true, Jessie knew she should be cautious. He’d told her what he had for a reason. He’d tried to scare her off.

  Still, she couldn’t minimize the impact he had on her, the sheer jolt of electricity, the burning want he ignited in her.

  She braced herself. “Ross?”

  “I heard you were coming back,” he said. There wasn’t much welcome in his words, but she saw a momentary warmth in his eyes. His gaze was intent, studying her.

  “Sarah wanted me,” she said simply.

  “Sarah’s good at getting what she wants,” he said.

  “And you?”

  He shrugged.

  Jessie suddenly felt tongue-tied, unsure. She hated that feeling. They had been so at ease with each other the night they’d had dinner. Tension radiated between them now, tension and energy and ambivalence. The conflicting emotions paralyzed her.

  Ben barked from the interior of the car.

  “You can let him out.” There was a touch of weariness in his voice, as if he knew what she was thinking. “Timber won’t hurt him.” I won’t hurt you.

  She didn’t question his claim, either the spoken or silently conveyed. Instead, her skin seemed to prickle, even as she felt warmer than she should, even on a July day. She opened the door and Ben tumbled out with all the grace of a pregnant elephant. For a moment, his button eyes seemed to panic at the sight of Timber, and he edged close to her.

  Timber started toward Ben.

  “Stay,”
Ross said. “Sit.” Then as the big dog sat, Ross went over to Ben and kneeled, whispered something to him, and scratched him behind his ears. Then he held out his hand to Timber. “Come.”

  The next second the dogs were sniffing each other, tails wagging.

  “Timber knows he’s a friend now,” Ross said. “He’ll protect your dog with his life if necessary.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I meant that to be comforting,” he said with a wry turn of his lips.

  “Ben is … shy,” she said.

  “Perhaps he has reason.”

  Nothing could have endeared him more to her. No snide comments about being a rug. Or timid. No comparisons with Timber. Just … acceptance.

  “He does. I think he was badly mistreated until I got him. But he’s very smart. And gentle.”

  His gaze rested on the dog for a moment, then returned to her face. “Does this mean you plan to stay awhile?” he asked.

  “There’s still my business. I’ll have to get back to Atlanta soon. I just couldn’t leave him again.”

  He nodded, not questioning the wisdom of bringing a dog two thousand miles. Still, his next words were a little stiff. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

  She knew exactly what he meant. “I’m not sure about that,” she said lightly. She hoped it didn’t sound like a croak.

  His eyes seemed to bore into her. “It’s not every day one becomes an heiress.”

  “I’m not sure I am.”

  “Aren’t you?” The wry cynicism was back in his voice. His raw disbelief was almost a slap in the face.

  She stepped back, anger and hurt filling her. “Think what you want,” she said. She started to turn away, back toward the house.

  He blocked her, and she had to look up at him. She could feel the heat of his body. Her own skin was sizzling. But warmer yet was the core of her. Energy radiated between them. Then his fingers touched her cheek. No, caressed. Her legs became boneless. Her belly tensed with a gnawing want. She recalled what he’d said the last time they were together. Remember what happens if you play with fire.