“That bastard,” Twyla hissed.
Forrest knew she wasn’t talking about his uncle.
“I always knew your fath— Galen Reynolds was the devil.” She let go of his arm and stomped around in a small circle. “I hope he rots in prison. I tell you what, Forrest, if my father hadn’t seen him sent away, I would have once I’d discovered this.”
Forrest knew he didn’t want her to know about Galen’s pending release. It was hard to say what Twyla might do, but she was sure to get herself hurt doing it.
“It’s in the past now,” he said, “and my injuries have never bothered me. Never stopped me from doing what I wanted to do.” He gestured toward the hangar. “That’s when I decided to become a pilot, while at my aunt and uncle’s. I met Charles Lindbergh while I was staying with them. He’s a pilot and he’s going to be world famous some day, mark my words.”
“I’ll mark your words,” Twyla said, still acting madder than a hornet whose nest had just been knocked down. “But you mark mine. If I ever lay eyes on Galen Reynolds, there will be hell to pay. I’ll knock the spots right out of him.”
Forrest’s stomach sank. What had he started? Choosing to change the subject, he asked, “Does your father know you swear like that?”
She glared at him.
“Does he?”
“It’s the 1920s, Forrest, women can curse.” She spun around and started walking toward the hangar. “We can drink and smoke, too, not to mention vote.”
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you need to,” he pointed out, knowing that would get her feathers more ruffled, but also hoping it would set her mind on a different track.
“Nonetheless,” she said, sticking her nose in the air, “I appreciate the new generation and embrace it fully.” Giving him a quick head-to-toe appraisal over her shoulder, she added, “Women can even have sex without worrying about getting pregnant.”
He shot forward and grabbed her arm before she took another step. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned pregnancy today,” he said, noting inwardly how it twisted his guts worse than flying through stormy weather. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why have you mentioned it twice?” He grew cold at the thought. “Are you pregnant?”
“Of course I’m not pregnant. How dare you suggest such a thing?”
Her cheeks had turned bright red. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, and I don’t appreciate you thinking otherwise.” Frowning, she persisted, “Why would you say such a thing?”
Her huffiness had fizzled out, which he assumed meant she was just being Twyla. In some cases, she liked to sound much more adventurous than she was—at least he hoped that was still the case, especially in this instance. He let go of her arm and walked over to shut the big doors on the hangar. “You did run a kissing booth.”
“You can’t get pregnant by just kissing,” she said. Having followed him, she was now swinging the other door closed.
“But it can lead to it,” he said as they met in the middle.
“I only ran that booth for two weekends before I got—” She pinched her lips together.
“Caught?” he inquired. “Two weekends before Norma Rose learned about it?” Bronco had told him that last week. The man had been greatly relieved.
Twyla rolled her eyes and sighed. She moved away then and he secured the door.
“Wait, I forgot to put your extra jacket and hat away,” she said.
“We can put them in the trunk with mine,” he answered, hoping that was the end of both conversations.
She gathered together the things she’d worn, while he picked up his, and silently they walked to the car, where he opened the trunk. As he swapped his boots for his loafers, she folded the pants and coats and set them carefully in the trunk. After adding his boots, he closed the lid and gestured toward the passenger side of the car.
“Why didn’t you ever tell us—I mean, tell Norma Rose—that you hadn’t just left town?” she asked as he opened the car door.
“By the time I could have, it was already too late,” he said. Norma Rose had said as much when he’d tried apologizing during their phone call.
“It’s never too late for some things, Forrest,” Twyla said, climbing in the roadster.
“Yes, it is.” He was no longer thinking about Norma Rose—he was thinking about Twyla, and what she now knew. It was too late for him to take it back. Now he had to figure out what it wasn’t too late for, like how he could guarantee her safety and keep Galen away from her and her family. The consequences of telling her all he knew were sinking in. These were things he should have considered before now, but since the moment taking her flying had crossed his mind, all else had fallen to the wayside.
It shouldn’t have. Galen’s pending release was a real danger and had just become even more serious. Which meant Forrest had to talk to Twyla’s father. Jacob was right. He needed Roger’s help in discovering who was backing Galen. Time was not on his side, either.
Although his mother claimed it wasn’t, he was still convinced the opium was the reason behind Galen’s arrest. There was nothing else it could be. Even though it appeared as if Galen’s drug-dealing shenanigans had been swept under the rug, it was the only thing that tied everything together, the only thing that made sense. The rest of Galen’s activities, although they were all illegal, wouldn’t have merited having him extradited to California—other than laundering the money he made from the drug deals. Where else would the money have come from?
They’d driven along the grassy field road, onto the gravel one, and were almost to the highway when she asked, “What do you want to talk to my father about?”
Evidently, that hadn’t changed, either—the way she could practically read his mind. A part of him wanted to tell her everything, for if she knew something, she might help him come up with a solution. Flying with her had brought forth his other dilemma. The problem of keeping the Plantation open while operating an airmail route...if the government accepted his bid. He had no reason to believe they wouldn’t, but the money in his coffers said he couldn’t do both. Flying was in his blood and was what he wanted to do, but the Plantation was his heritage. He’d spent years trying to prevent people from learning about the ugliness he went home to every night. Protecting those he cared about from getting hurt was still his main concern.
Twyla would have an opinion on all that, as she did on everything, and in this case it could be worthwhile for him to listen to it, if it wasn’t for the fact her couldn’t tell her. The less she knew—the less anyone knew—the better. That hadn’t changed. If he couldn’t find a way to keep Galen behind bars, it never would change.
“The Plantation,” he finally said. It was a half truth, but she’d simply repeat herself if he didn’t respond soon.
“What about it?” she asked.
His plan could end up with more holes in it than a fighter plane that had been shot down if he didn’t get away from her soon. Twyla was making him wish he’d never come home. She was too intuitive and too impulsive. She was also too beautiful and meant far too much to him.
They turned onto the highway and, glancing toward Twyla with her yellow scarf flaying behind her as it had in the plane, Forrest shrugged. “I just need some advice, and Roger seemed like the perfect man to ask.”
“What sort of advice?”
She was relentless. “Business advice.”
“Well, if it’s about running shine, yes, then talk to my father, but if it’s about running a nightclub, Norma Rose is who you need to talk to.”
A chilling silence filled the car, even though the roadster had no top and the wind was still whipping his hair and her scarf about. Forrest considered once again telling her he wasn’t in love with Norma Rose, as Twyla seemed to think, but, in all reality, it made no d
ifference. Twyla was Twyla, and she was going to think whatever she wanted no matter what he said. That hadn’t changed, and neither had his goal—to never bring any of the girls any closer to him than necessary. Never to expose them to the corruption embedded in his family.
As he turned the car off the highway and onto the road that led to the resort, Twyla let out a loud sigh. Forrest held his in.
After the car rumbled over the railroad tracks, she said, “I wish we were still up in the air, flying around like we had no worries in the world.”
“I do, too,” he admitted.
“Will you take me up again someday?” she asked.
“Sure,” he lied.
* * *
Twyla was fighting hard to find some of the excitement that had lived inside her just a short time ago, but it wasn’t to be found. A dark, heavy dread had settled where her excitement had resided. There were several things she could attribute it to, but she couldn’t pinpoint which one weighed more heavily. They all made her head hurt, and her heart. Forrest hadn’t left years ago on purpose. She knew that now as soundly as she knew her last name was Nightingale. He’d been hurt. Badly. She’d seen that in his eyes.
Once Norma Rose learned that fact, she was sure to forgive him. Although her sister might consider herself in love with Ty, the truth could change her mind.
No one was more handsome than Forrest, and who wouldn’t want to be married to a man who could take you on airplane rides? Forrest had money, too, left to him by his grandfather, and owning a plane said he still had all that money. Norma Rose would like that, too. Money meant as much to her as it did to Twyla.
The more she thought about it, the heavier her heart grew. Even though her sister swore for years that she hated Forrest, Norma Rose was sure to choose him over Ty. Any woman with a lick of sense would, and Norma Rose was far from senseless. Twyla couldn’t help but think of Ty. She understood the pain of loving someone who hadn’t loved her back in return. Her gaze settled briefly on Forrest as she told herself that would never happen again.
Forrest pulled the roadster into the resort parking lot and hadn’t even turned the car off before the front door of the resort flew open.
Norma Rose, looking as furious as a caged dog being poked with a stick, flew toward them shouting, “Who do you think you are?”
Chapter Seven
It took Twyla all of ten seconds to figure out Norma Rose was shouting at Forrest and that lit a fire in her belly.
“Don’t yell at him,” she shouted back, wrenching open the car door.
“I certainly will yell at him,” Norma Rose bellowed. “And I’ll yell at you. What were you thinking, going up in an airplane with him?”
“I was thinking it would be fun,” Twyla responded just as loud, meeting her sister toe-to-toe in the parking lot. “And it was.”
“Get inside,” Norma Rose barked. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
“No,” Twyla argued. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Oh, yes, I can, and I will, as soon as I send Forrest home.” Norma Rose flayed a finger toward Forrest, who’d also climbed out of the car. “Get back in your car and get out of here.”
“You can’t tell him what to do, either,” Twyla shouted.
Forrest, arriving at her side, told them both to be quiet. Ty, who’d arrived at Norma Rose’s side, did the same, but Twyla couldn’t care less who said what. She wasn’t exactly sure what Norma Rose had replied with, but just the movement of her sister’s lips increased the fury in her belly. Twyla shouted back whatever came to mind, and struggled against a powerful force that held her from stomping forward.
Norma Rose responded in turn. Their shouting continued loud and unbroken, and the grip on Twyla’s arms grew so tight she could barely move. Nothing was clear until an ear-splitting whistle sliced the air with a shattering effect.
As the silence settled, Twyla noted how Ty had a hold of Norma Rose’s arms from behind, as if keeping her from storming forward. A tingling sensation had Twyla looking over her shoulder. Sure enough, Forrest held her in pretty much the same manner that Ty held her sister. Their father was there, too, standing between them, and Josie, who still had her index finger and thumb in her mouth, was nearby. Twyla should have known that. Josie was the only one who’d ever mastered whistling. Other than Forrest, of course, whose hold Twyla attempted to twist out of, with no luck.
“You,” her father said, pointing at her. “Inside. I’ll talk with you in a few minutes.”
The smirk on Norma Rose’s face almost forced Twyla to respond. Forrest’s hold tightened a bit, but it was her father’s voice sounding out again that kept her mouth shut.
“Norma Rose,” he said, more sternly than Twyla had heard him speak in years. “Inside with your sister. And no more bickering.” Her father then shifted his stance to point at Forrest and Ty at the same time. “You two, I want in my office, now.”
Her father spun around then, gesturing toward the house.
Norma Rose and Ty moved first, and Josie scooted ahead to hold open the door.
“Good grief,” Twyla grumbled. “You’d think we were all ten.”
“What do you expect?” Forrest asked. “When you act like you are ten, you’re treated like you’re ten.”
“She started it,” Twyla insisted.
“Twyla,” he half groaned, half scolded.
“Go ahead, stick up for her.”
“I’m not sticking up for her,” Forrest said.
Twyla refrained from voicing her doubt. He’d always taken Norma Rose’s side. Huffing out a breath, she warned, “You’re in as much trouble as the rest of us.”
“No, I’m not,” he said. “I came here to meet with your father, and I’m going to do that.”
“Well, you’d best be prepared for a good talking-to.”
As they entered the resort, he pulled her to the side of the entranceway, near the long and narrow room where people hung their coats on winter nights. Before she could protest, Forrest spun her about and backed her into the tiny room.
“If you don’t want to be treated like a child,” he said, “don’t act like one.”
“She started it, I—” His raised eyebrows made her stop. A hint of humiliation made her stomach sink. “Fine. But she had no right to yell at you like that. You can take me flying if you want to. I’m old enough—”
“Then prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“That you are old enough to do as you wish.” He tapped her temple. “That you’re smart enough to know right from wrong.” Forrest then lifted her chin with one knuckle. “Respond to her like an adult instead of like her little sister.”
A tingling sensation circled her spine all the way to her neck before the air left her sails in a whoosh. He was right. She was an adult, and would prove it. To everyone. Including him. She may have been a poor schoolgirl when he’d left, but she was now a rich woman. The lessons she’d learned during that transition had changed her. She’d found the one thing a person could control—money. It never turned its back on you. She’d learned that if a person worked hard enough, for long enough, they’d never be without money. Bootlegged whiskey hadn’t made the resort a destination point of the rich and famous. The spectacular parties had, and she was just the hostess to make sure they continued to be the best. Now that she had her freedom, the rest would be easy.
“Twyla?”
Glancing up, she nodded. “You’re right.”
He frowned, as if skeptical that she was agreeing with him.
“It’s time I stop letting Norma Rose make me feel like a child.” The statement was as much directed at herself as it was to him.
“Good,” he said with a nod. “Good. Norma Rose always had a superior attitude, even before your mother died.”
Sh
ocked that he, of all people, would say such a thing, Twyla whispered, “That’s not a very flattering thing to say.”
“I’m not insulting her, I’m just telling you how it is, how it always was. I can’t remember a single time the two of you saw eye-to-eye.”
Twyla let that remark settle for a minute. “That’s true.” His other statement had been true, too. Norma Rose’s superior attitude was what had always set her above the rest of the sisters.
Forrest’s grin was showing his dimples again, and Twyla had to smile in return, even as her cheeks grew warm and a splattering of shame gurgled in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to act so childishly, but no one else seemed to understand all that was at risk. Nothing, absolutely nothing, lasted forever.
“Isn’t it time you show her you’ve always had a superior attitude, too?” he asked playfully. “Show her that you’re a grown woman who can curse and drink and smoke and vote.”
Now he was teasing. Twyla withheld a giggle, but flinched at the heat consuming her cheeks. She duly noted he didn’t add that she could have sex without worrying about getting pregnant, but wasn’t about to remind him. The twinkle in his eyes said he’d purposefully left that out. He was simply pointing out her attitude, encouraging her. That had been one of the things she’d really missed after he’d left.
“I don’t know that I’ll remind her of all that,” Twyla said. “It might sound childish.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he whispered. “Just treat her like you want to be treated—she’ll respect that more than anything.”
Twyla nodded, fully understanding more at this moment than she’d understood for a long time. “I’ve missed you, Forrest.” She hadn’t meant for that to come out, but couldn’t do much about it. He’d always had a knack for making her see things differently. “Missed you a lot,” she repeated under her breath. The past five years certainly would have been different if he’d been around.
The Rebel Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 2) Page 11
