THE BACHELOR PARTY

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  Expecting Ford to arrive at any minute, Sophie drew on her jacket and went out to the front porch to wait. The night air had a flavor of frost, though the temperature was still far above freezing.

  Trailing her fingertips along the porch railing, she walked slowly past the parlor windows, expecting with each step to see Ford's Camaro pulling into the driveway. When she reached the swing in the far corner, she glanced at her watch and saw that he was five minutes late. She hesitated, then sat down and put the swing in motion, trying without much success to ignore the worry niggling at her. It wasn't like Ford to be late without a reason.

  By 7:20 worry had her biting her lip, her gaze riveted on the street, her mind all but conjuring up the sight of a midnight blue Camaro.

  By seven-thirty, she was worried enough to start walking toward downtown. Ten minutes later she was in the stark basement foyer of the town hall, pressing the buzzer by the door to the sheriff's department.

  The deputy who admitted her was about Eli's age, and as blond as Eli was dark. "May I help you, ma'am?" he asked politely, his gaze taking a fast inventory of her appearance and, she suspected, potential for trouble.

  "Is Sheriff Maguire still here?" she asked, glancing past his shoulder toward Ford's office. The door was closed, telling her nothing. As far as she could see, there was nothing pressing going on. Certainly the young deputy didn't seem to be in the least hassled or overly worried.

  "Last time I saw the sheriff, he was headin' back to his office," he told her, casting a fast look over his shoulder. "Do you know where that is?"

  "Yes, thank you," she said, moving past him.

  She knocked once, then opened the door at his command. He was sitting behind the desk, his expression controlled, his eyes bleak. Something was terribly wrong.

  "Hi," she said when his gaze locked on hers. "I thought maybe you were tied up, so I walked on over." She curved her lips in what she hoped was a casual smile.

  "Sit down," he said, glancing at the other chair in the window-less cubicle. It wasn't a request, and Sophie felt a stir of anger.

  "Thank you, but I prefer to stand," she said, allowing her smile to fade.

  He shifted, his back pressed hard against the back of the chair. "Suit yourself."

  It took her a moment to realize that he had become a different man from the one who'd dragged her into his arms in a blatant show of masculine possessiveness just a few short hours ago. Even a cursory glance at that hard jaw told her that this man was capable of deep, abiding rage when provoked, perhaps to the point of violence. Like his father, she thought on a flare of very real fear. And then she remembered the gentleness she'd sensed in him earlier and knew that he would never hurt her—not in the physical sense at any rate. She took a step forward. "Ford—"

  "I had a visitor this evening," he said, his tone running close to cruel. "A private detective. He left me this." He took a single sheet of cheap paper from beneath the blotter and flipped it closer. It was a duplicate to the poster she'd destroyed.

  "I … see," she managed to force past the taste of bile in her throat.

  "Then you're one up on me, Mrs. Manwaring." The steel in his voice was layered with ice, and the low sensual drawl had been replaced by the clipped cadence of cruelest sarcasm. It was a voice she'd never heard before, one she hoped never to hear again.

  "There's nothing I can say, except that I didn't want this to happen."

  He lifted one black eyebrow, the only sign of movement in that deathly still face. His hair was disheveled, as though he ripped his hand through more than once, and his mouth had a controlled look.

  "Meaning you figured you were safe in a hick town with a hick sheriff too besotted to question the pack of lies you fed him, isn't that about the size of it, Mrs. Manwaring?"

  "Don't call me that!" she cried through a mix of fear and anger and guilt.

  He flicked a glance at the poster, his mouth twisting in disgust. "Exactly which of your various names would you prefer, then?"

  Sophie knew then that any attempt to make him understand would be futile. Worse, it would only demean them both.

  "I assume I'm under arrest," she said with as much dignity as she could summon from the chaotic tangle of emotions threatening to send her to her knees.

  His gaze flickered, and for an instant she saw anguish glittering in his eyes before they became hard as quartz once more.

  "I sent the guy on his way with a head full of lies, but likely, he'll be back. You have thirty-six hours. If I see you after that time, I'll arrest you."

  Hope trembled like a wounded bird in her breast. "And if you don't see me, what then?"

  "Either way, I'll be on the phone to the Portland PD."

  Sophie closed her eyes on a spasm of relief. He was letting her go! "Thank you," she said when she could speak again.

  The hand resting on the arm of his chair closed into a fist, but his expression remained icily controlled. "Don't thank me yet. There are conditions to my … generosity."

  A hole opened in her stomach, but she managed to keep her composure. "I assume you're going to tell me what those might be."

  His mouth moved. "Number one, I never want to see you or hear from you again, nor do I want to know where you're going. Number two, you aren't to contact anyone else in Clover."

  "Is that all?"

  "And number three, I want to settle some money on Jessie."

  "We don't need your money." Her voice was calm, but her heart was breaking.

  "You'll take it, anyway. Jessie doesn't deserve to suffer for her mother's sins."

  The hurt went to the bone, stripping away the last of her already-battered defenses. "Don't you think I want that, too?" she flung at him, her voice splintering. "She's all I care about, all I thought about while I was locked up in a place even smaller than this for the first six months of her life. Knowing that I would see her again was all that kept me sane when the walls started closing in. Remembering how it felt to hold her in my arms kept me alive."

  "Damn it, Sophie, you broke the law." He slammed his fist on the arm of the chair before standing so quickly the chair went flying backward to hit the wall. "What do you expect me to do, pretend I don't care about that?"

  "No, I want you to understand why I broke those laws," she cried, wanting desperately to go to him, yet knowing that he would only shove her away if she did.

  "I'm listening."

  "No, you're not. Look at you." She gestured impatiently at his stance.

  "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

  "Look at yourself," she repeated, drawing a hasty breath.

  Frowning, he glanced down. At the big hands fisted on his lean hips. At the legs spread wide for balance. What he couldn't see was the set of his jaw and the pride-stiffened shoulders.

  "You're standing there like a gunslinger ready to draw your gun and shoot me down, no matter what I say."

  A flush the color of sun-hardened brick ran along the rise of his cheekbones, and his eyes flashed. "Convince me, Sophie. Give me a reason to trust you again."

  She swallowed the words of anger and pain and tried for calm. "After Jessie was born, the law required a custody hearing before they could take her away from me. It lasted ten minutes." She smiled, but felt no amusement, only a sharp, cutting frustration. "Wells, Sr., is a retired judge, you see, and my mother-in-law's family has been involved with local politics since Oregon Trail days. So it was just naturally assumed by everyone but me and my attorney that they would make far more suitable parents for my child that I could ever hope to be. After all, they'd raised an exemplary son. So exemplary that he was prepared to kill his own child so that he wouldn't have his perfect life disrupted."

  Her lips trembled, and she paused to bring her emotions under control again. "Silly me, I thought if I could just convince the judge how warped Wells had been by those 'wonderful' parents of his, he would understand why I was terrified they would do the same to Jessie. Instead, he came close to citing me for contempt.
For defaming the name of a good and decent man who couldn't defend himself."

  Some of the anger bled from his eyes. "Why didn't you appeal?"

  "I did appeal. It was denied."

  "So you decided to take the law into your own hands."

  "Yes!" she shouted, sobbing in frustration. "And if you just get past that hurt pride you're standing on to judge me you'd realize that I didn't have a choice."

  "Don't try to feed me any intellectual crap about choices, Sophie. You're talkin' to a man who's had it up to here with choices." His hand made a sharp cutting motion at the level of his throat. "I might not always like the ones I made, but at least I can sleep nights."

  Sophie's patience snapped. "Bully for you," she shouted, her own hands fisted now as she advanced on him. "I'm glad your choices worked out. I'm glad you never had to choose between breaking the law or losing the only thing in life you love. But I did, and I'd do it again."

  She waited until she felt the heat from his body before she stopped. Though she trembled, she managed to stand tall as she looked him in the eyes.

  "I tried every way I knew how not to involve you in this, but you kept telling me the past didn't matter."

  His mouth flattened, but he remained silent, unyielding. She wanted to shake him. She wanted to beg him to hold her. She did neither.

  "God help me, I loved you so much I let myself believe that."

  He flinched then, and some of the ice left his eyes. "You could have told me—"

  "And then what? Make you an accessory to a felony?" She drew a harsh breath. "At least this way one of us can sleep at night."

  She turned and walked out, hoping with every step she took to hear him calling her back. Instead, she heard only the sound of his door slamming shut behind her.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  Sophie heard footsteps on the stairs and glanced up to find Lucy standing by her half-opened door, her hand poised to knock. "Hi," she said when she realized Sophie had seen her approaching.

  "Hi." Sophie finished folding the blouse she'd just taken from its hanger and added it to the already overflowing suitcase on the bed.

  "Katie says you're leaving."

  "Yes, our bus leaves at eleven," she said, straightening.

  Lucy stepped into the room as though unsure of her welcome. Though the two of them had crossed paths often in the past four months, Lucy had never been to Sophie's room. Nor had Sophie been to Lucy's house, the one that Ford had signed over to her on her twenty-first birthday. Sophie found herself regretting that bitterly. She wanted to take as many memories of Ford with her as she could gather to her. Seeing the place where he'd grown up, actually walking through the rooms and feeling the energy there, might have helped her understand him better.

  "I hope it's not because I was, well, a bit testy with you at the reception yesterday," Lucy said after a moment of tense silence.

  Sophie shook her head. "I'd already forgotten all about that, Lucy. Truly."

  She checked the time, then took one last look around. The closet door stood open with only a few forlorn hangers dangling from the rod to show that she'd even been here.

  Other than the few things necessary for the trip, Jessie's clothes and toys were already in the suitcase. Sophie had already decided to take the stroller and, of course, Bun. These days Jess never went anywhere without Bun clutched under one arm. The poor rabbit was becoming dreadfully bedraggled, as only a much-loved toy could get. Drawing a ragged breath, she realized that she'd forgotten for a moment that she wasn't alone.

  "I'm sorry," she told Lucy on an intake of air. "I didn't mean to ignore you. I guess I'm just a little … distracted."

  Lucy came toward her, looking perplexed. "Forgive me for being tacky enough to ask pushy questions, but does your leaving have anything to do with my brother?"

  "No, my uncle is ill," she said, repeating the lie she'd already told Katie and the others. As she'd expected, everyone had rallied around, offering hugs and travel advice, and even money, though none of them really had all that much to spare. Roy Dean had even gone so far as to offer to drive her to Montana, so that she and Jessie wouldn't feel so alone.

  She'd cried then and, pleading a need to pack, fled to her room, leaving Jessie with the rest of her "family" for as long as possible. They were downstairs in the parlor, taking pictures with Katie's camera, pictures that Sophie knew she would never see. Jessie was too young to remember the wonderful people at Clover Rooming House, but Sophie knew she'd never forget them.

  Satisfied that she had everything she closed the closet door, leaving the hangers for the next occupant.

  "Does Ford know you're leaving?" Lucy persisted.

  "Yes, of course," Sophie hedged, unable suddenly to meet Lucy's anxious gaze. The hazel color of Lucy's eyes tended more toward green than the gray predominating in Ford's, but the resemblance between brother and sister was too much to handle in her distracted state.

  "Oh, then Ford's going with you to Montana. Katie must have forgotten to mention that when she called to tell me you were leaving."

  Surprise had Sophie turning back to look at her. "Why would he do that?"

  Lucy narrowed her gaze, emphasizing the similarities between brother and sister even more strongly. "Sophie, I know my brother better than he thinks I do, and I'm telling you this right to your face. Either I misread the look I saw in his eyes earlier, or you didn't tell him the truth, because if he thought someone he loved was in trouble he'd find a way to get you out of it or he'd glue himself to your side to make sure you didn't have to suffer alone."

  Sophie nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what he would do," she said in an achingly quiet voice. "If he loved someone."

  "But he does love you, Sophie," she cried softly. "And you love him. I saw that yesterday when you were dancing together."

  Averting her gaze so that Lucy wouldn't see the tears drenching her eyes, Sophie concentrated on zipping up the bulging case. When she was finished, she dragged it from the bed and straightened the quilt until it was as neat as it had been when she'd arrived.

  No doubt Katie would sell the crib, though it might be better to have Roy Dean carry it up to the attic in case another nearly destitute mama arrived with a baby in her arms and little more than the clothes on her back. Perhaps, if she left a note… No, she couldn't risk it. Not with the Manwarings' detective already so close.

  "I guess that's it," she said, taking a deep breath that turned jagged. She turned to offer her hand to Lucy, only to be struck by the look on her friend's face.

  "Lucy?" she murmured urgently, worrying about her sudden paleness.

  "When I was nine, Grandma Maguire died and left me this ring," Lucy said tonelessly, extending her hand. The ring was slightly larger than a woman would wear, with a strange milky stone in an exotic setting. Just looking at it gave Sophie a chill.

  "Very pretty," she murmuring, staring into Lucy's slightly unfocused eyes. It was as though she hadn't spoken.

  "Sometimes, when I looked at it," Lucy continued in that same singsong voice that Sophie found intensely disturbing, "I … saw things before they happened. I knew Mama and Daddy were dead that morning when I went to fetch Ford from his room. He used to get really mad and insist that what I saw was just a dream so I stopped trying to convince him. I didn't see things after that, but just now…" She took a deep breath, her gaze suddenly taking on a keen look that pierced Sophie's composure.

  "You're in terrible trouble, aren't you?"

  Intending to do just the opposite, Sophie found herself nodding, tears flowing unchecked now down her cheeks. "I wish I'd stayed on the bus all the way to Florida the way I'd originally planned," she whispered, sinking to the bed and burying her face in her hands. Conscious that Lucy was hovering, she managed to put together a good imitation of a confident smile.

  "Sorry to unload on you," she murmured. "I'm fine now."

  "What about Ford?" Lucy asked softly. "Is he fine, too?"


  "He will be."

  Lucy walked to the door and pushed it shut before turning to face Sophie again. She looked shaken, but determined to make her point. Like Ford, Sophie thought.

  "I'm not sure why I feel compelled to tell you about something that happened more than twenty years ago, but I do." She asked Sophie's permission with a glance. Suspecting that she was making a terrible mistake, Sophie nodded.

  Lucy remained where she was, standing with her back to the heavy door, her hands clasped in front of her like a dutiful child. "I was about six, and Ford was fifteen when he brought home this baby rabbit he'd found in the woods. It was just a little bitty thing, still trying to nurse on its dead mama when he spotted it. We named it Flower. Well, actually I did. He favored Bugs as I recall." Her smile was wispy and short-lived.

  "He fed Flower with an eye dropper until she was old enough to be weaned, and she got so she'd follow him around like a puppy. He never said so out loud, but everyone knew he was crazy about that little rabbit."

  Sophie bit her lip. Was that why he'd taken Jessie to see Mr. Shepherd's rabbits? Because he'd had such fond memories of his own childhood pet?

  "I was playing in this fort I'd made in the azalea bushes one day when Daddy came around the house in a right temper, yelling for Ford to get his … behind out of the house. Ford used to study night and day, and he was always up in his room staring at a book. Anyway, out he came, and right behind him came Flower."

  Lucy paused, as though to organize her thoughts, and Sophie sat without moving, her heart thudding so loud she was certain Lucy could hear it where she was standing. In her mind she had a vivid image of Ford as a gangly boy of fifteen with his eyes fixed on the sky and his heart set on reaching the stars someday.

  "At first I didn't understand what Daddy was yelling about, and then it came to me that he was saying that he knew all about Mama running around with other men behind his back, and Ford needn't pretend he didn't know, too. I guess you know all about that, though?"

  Sophie nodded. "I'm sorry to say I do."

  Lucy's smile came and went, but her eyes remained haunted with those long-ago images. "Somehow Daddy had heard that Mama used to take Ford with her sometimes when she went to meet those … men and he wanted Ford to tell him who they were. Ford refused, and Daddy threatened to whip him good if he didn't change his mind. Ford just stood there, staring Daddy down."