“Which is it?”
Twyla’s mind couldn’t come up with a way to make him understand.
When she didn’t answer, he continued. “What if I told you I don’t want to be rich again? What if I told you I don’t want to run the Plantation? What if I told you my mother’s here so she can run the Plantation and I can fly my airmail route?”
After licking her lips to moisten them, Twyla asked, “You don’t want—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I don’t. I saw how money hurt people. How it’s still hurting people.”
“Forrest, I—”
Standing, he held up one hand. “I’ll go and get Babe Ruth, I’ll give airplane rides and I’ll do whatever else you need me to do that day, but Twyla, next time you want to form a partnership, leave me out of it.”
“Forrest—” Biting her lips together, Twyla stopped before she started begging him to listen. It wouldn’t do any good. Her plan had failed. Nothing would ever keep Forrest here.
She stopped herself from following him to the door, too. The tears were the hardest thing to stop, but she did it, with painful, sheer will. It hurt, too, to walk over to his desk and retrieve her purse from the floor, and to walk to the door. But she did it. She walked all the way to her car and drove all the way home. Then she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, where she threw her purse against the wall, not caring about the contents that scattered on the floor or the picture that fell.
Yes, she did all that. And she’d done one other thing.
She’d chosen money over love. At least that’s what Forrest thought she’d done. In truth, it didn’t matter what she did or what she wanted. Forrest was bound to climb in his plane and fly away. He was a bird that couldn’t be caged. Nothing would ever change that.
Twyla was about to throw herself upon her bed when a knock sounded on her door.
It opened without her response.
“Twyla?” Josie asked. “Are you all right?”
Staring out the window, at the blue water of the lake shimmering in the sunshine, she shook her head. “No, but I will be.”
“Anything I can do?” her sister asked.
“No, there’s nothing anyone can do.”
Twyla spun around and walked past her sister. “Excuse me. I need to be alone.”
Josie didn’t follow, and for that Twyla was thankful. She took the back stairway and used the room off the hall where all the supplies were held to make her way outside. Barely thinking and too numb to feel, she made her way to the dock, and then, without a second thought, she kicked off her shoes and made a swan dive into the lake.
* * *
It had taken Forrest all of a minute to realize what a fool he’d been. How he’d twisted and distorted everything Twyla had said. Was he some sort of martyr? Or was he trying to follow in his mother’s footsteps, loving someone for years and years, and never doing a solid, tangible thing about it?
He spun around and dashed back down the steps. His office was empty. Out the window, he saw her car leave the parking lot.
Getting his roadster out of the garage was yet another fiasco. Three ladies from Josie’s society had to be found so their automobiles could be moved, and then to top it off, he had to wait for a train to pass at the Bald Eagle crossing.
At least all that gave him time to really regret his actions. As if he needed that.
Sundays were quiet at the resort. Walking through the front door was like entering a tomb, it was so still and silent. He headed for the stairway, but paused when he noticed someone on the deck outside of the ballroom doors.
It turned out to be Josie.
“Where’s Twyla?”
Josie gave him a silent and rather frosty stare before she pointed toward the lake. Forrest scanned the area but couldn’t see anything or anyone.
Pointing again, this time Josie spoke. “The island. She just walked ashore. Swam all the way there.”
Forrest cursed.
“You can say that again,” Josie said. “What did you say to her? That you didn’t like the Babe Ruth idea? She’s been working on it night and day. She did it all for you. So the Plantation would be a success again and you wouldn’t leave.”
Forrest held up both hands. “I know. I think it’s a great idea.” His mind caught then. “Leave?”
“Yes. Leave. You broke her heart when you left years ago.”
He cursed again. “I’m borrowing a boat.”
Josie grabbed his arm. “Wait. Just wait. Give me five minutes.” She held on even tighter when he took a step. “Five minutes isn’t going to matter. Twyla has to catch her breath, and you need to calm down. Figure out what you’re going to say to her.”
Josie had always been the wisest sister. “Five minutes for what?” he asked.
“You’ll see, and you’ll like it,” Josie said. “I promise.”
“Five minutes,” Forrest said, his eyes on the island. “No more.”
As Josie suggested, he used the five minutes to calm down, and to figure out what he wanted to say. If Twyla wanted him to be rich again, that was what he’d do. He’d work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Forrest slapped the balcony railing. “You’re an idiot,” he growled, seething.
“Maybe just a man in love,” Josie said, walking through the doors. “Here, this is your surprise.”
He took the handle she held out. “It looks like a picnic basket.”
“It is,” Josie said. “What better place to have a picnic than on a deserted island?”
Twyla had always loved the deserted-island idea. On impulse, he kissed Josie’s cheek. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
“No, I just figured I owed you one for flying Scooter to Duluth to get me out of the hoosegow.”
He hadn’t given that a thought for several days. “How’d that turn out for you?” he asked.
“I’ll let you know, when I know,” she said. “Go. Take the boat out of the first boathouse, it has a motor.”
He gave her a thumbs-up as he ran down the steps, and in no time, had the boat skimming across the water.
It wasn’t as if he could camouflage his arrival, so Twyla definitely saw him. When she didn’t move, just sat with her knees tucked beneath her chin, Forrest experienced a moment of panic. What if she’d cramped up again? That was a long swim.
He shot the boat far up onto the sand before jumping out. Her gaze, though solemn, let him know she hadn’t cramped up, at least not in her muscles. He had probably put a hard cramp in her heart, though, if it felt anything like his.
He left the picnic basket in the boat and approached slowly, as one would if they came upon something they didn’t want to frighten away. Sitting down beside her, he remained silent, thinking about the Twyla he’d known and loved what seemed like a million years ago. She’d matured, grown into a beautiful, vibrant woman, but deep down, she was still the same girl he’d fallen in love with.
She made the first move, as she’d always done when they were young. It was little more than a shift, where she bumped her shoulder with his. “What are you doing here?”
He bumped her back. “Came to apologize.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“What if I don’t want to hear it?”
“Then I’ll wait until you do.”
“That could take hours.”
“I know. I’ve got a picnic basket in the boat if I get hungry.”
He could tell she tried not to smile, but a small one appeared. “You do?”
He reminded himself to thank Josie again. “Yep, I do.”
“What’s in it?”
“I’m not telling.” That sounded better than telling her he didn’t know.
She reached forward and shoved aside a pair
of wet silk stockings and garters before she stretched her legs out. Long shapely legs he sincerely admired. There wasn’t a single thing he didn’t admire about her. Didn’t adore.
“I’m sorry, Forrest, I—”
He twisted and pressed a finger to her lips. “I’m the one who came to apologize.” Removing his finger so he could hold her chin with his thumb and knuckle, he said, “I’m so sorry, Twyla. I have no idea why I said what I did.”
“Because it’s how you really feel.”
“No, it’s not. I love you, I have for years. I loved you when you were poor and I was rich, and I love you now, when you’re rich and I’m poor.”
Her smile was gentle and sweet, but she shook her head. “Oh, Forrest, I love you, too, rich or poor, young or old, but that’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“The conversation we had earlier wasn’t about love. It was about what you want and what I want.” She pulled his hand away from her chin and held it between both of hers. “Wanting something and loving someone are two separate things.”
“That’s true,” he said, “and you want to be rich.”
Her face fell and her eyes filled with sorrow. “I know that’s what you think, and at one time I honestly thought that, too. I thought that was the answer.”
“The answer to what?”
“The emptiness inside me. It didn’t use to be there. But then things happened, and I attributed it to how poor we were. How boring our lives were.” She shook her head. “But even after we became rich, I was still empty inside. No matter what I tried.” A becoming blush covered her cheeks. “And you know I tried almost everything.” She sighed. “But nothing filled that void.”
He rubbed her cheek, knowing she was referring to all her antics with Mitsy.
“Everyone looks at things differently, Forrest, but I, because I wanted to follow in her footsteps, thought I had to think like Norma Rose. That money was at the core of everyone’s happiness.”
“It can be the core of everyone’s evilness, too,” Forrest warned, having seen that first-hand.
“I’ve seen that, too, for years, but I didn’t comprehend it.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Because I’d only been thinking about myself. I only thought about what I wanted, and ironically, when that became clear to me, I realized I hadn’t known what that truly meant.”
Forrest was trying hard, but he wasn’t grasping what she was saying. However, he was determined to make this work; whatever she wanted, he’d find a way to get it. “Adventures?” he asked. “The night of Palooka George’s party you told me you wanted more adventure than a kissing booth.” He kissed her fingertips. “I liked your booth today.”
Her mood lightened slightly and she giggled. Leaning her head back, she looked up at the sky. “I only said that because it was you. The adventures in my life stopped when you left. That’s when the emptiness formed inside me. When my world became lonely and cold.” She sighed. “I thought money would solve it all. Today, I realized I was wrong.”
“Twyla—”
“I’ve been jealous, Forrest, for years. Of Norma Rose. Of...” She shook her head. “There’s even a part of me that’s jealous of your airplane. You see, Forrest, what I want isn’t money or adventures. All I’ve ever wanted is to be what you want.”
He grasped her face with both hands. “You are exactly what I want. Who I want.” Wanting her to understand, he explained, “You always were, even when we were kids, but you scared me.”
“I scared you?”
“Yes, you scared me,” he admitted. “You were so fun, so adventurous and outgoing and determined. I can’t say I knew what love was back then. No one in my family loved one another. The only place I ever saw affection was out here, at your house, and when I realized that’s what I felt for you, I tried to convince myself otherwise, because I knew eventually you’d get hurt because of me. I didn’t want you to become a part of my family because it was an ugly place to be. Yet I couldn’t stay away, so I pretended to be in love with Norma Rose. The night I left, when Galen supposedly caught us kissing, I was breaking up with Norma Rose.”
“But you were already planning on leaving that night.”
Forrest nodded, and closed his eyes for a moment, pulling forth a memory he’d suppressed long ago. “When I came home from college, the day of my graduation party, Galen had a graduation gift for me. A young Asian girl. She was in my room, naked. Her body was bruised and her face stained with tears. I’d seen girls like her before, the third floor was full of them, and for years Galen had goaded me to sample them. I’d refused, said I’d never fall to his level. I told the girl in my room to leave, but she said she couldn’t. That they’d kill her. I told her that wouldn’t happen, but when I opened my bedroom door, one of Galen’s men entered, with a gun.”
Twyla gasped.
It was such an ugly tale, one he’d tried to completely erase from his memory, yet he knew it played a significant role in making Twyla understand how he’d always loved her, but had to leave—for her sake. “I told the man to go ahead and shoot me because I wasn’t going to touch her. Eventually he yelled for Galen. When Galen came in the room, he held the gun on the girl and said he’d kill her before my eyes if I didn’t take her. I was afraid he might, but I still refused. And then I grabbed her hand, threw a blanket over her shoulders and walked her out the door. I took her to Gloria Kasper’s house. I have no idea what became of her.” Forrest took her hand and squeezed it. “I didn’t want to return, but I had to, when my party started. I remember watching you walk through the door. You were wearing a blue dress, the same color as your eyes, and your hair was long, past your shoulders. I remember that very moment, because that’s when I knew I had to leave. Not even stay the summer as I’d planned. You’d grown up that year, and I knew if I stayed, something would happen between you and me, and you’d be hurt. Galen would find a way to hurt you. When Norma Rose asked me to drive her home, I agreed because it would give me time to tell her I was leaving.” Forrest withheld the part about how Galen had threatened to kidnap the Nightingale girls.
Twyla lifted his hand and kissed his palm. “I knew Galen was evil, but I had no idea.”
“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know,” he said. “But your father did, and I knew he’d never let Galen harm you girls. Years before, when I was little and you might just have been a baby, my mother and I were at your house and Galen came and forced us to go home. That night your father literally kicked the front door of the Plantation in. That’s all I remember, but from then on, Galen never refused to let my mother visit yours. I held that memory close the entire time I was gone. Hoping and praying your father would keep you girls protected.”
“Of course he kept us safe,” Twyla said. “Daddy’s a force to reckon with. He’d never have let your father harm us.” She kissed his chin. “Just like you never let him harm us. And now he’s in jail. Forever.”
Forrest caught her under the chin with a knuckle. “Thanks to you. For finding that suitcase and driving the getaway car. I have no doubt that if I’d been on the driver’s side of that car, I’d have been driving and you shooting—whether you knew how to or not.”
“That’s how it always was between us, wasn’t it?”
“Still is,” he said.
She nodded, but then glanced out to the lake before gazing up at him again. “So, where do we go from here? Now that Galen’s locked up forever, you’ll start your airmail business, and I’ll...” She shook her head.
He knew whatever else they had to work out would happen naturally, as it always had between him and her, but needed to reassure her of that. “Well.” He attempted to sound thoughtful. “I know this gorgeous, vivacious woman who throws spectacular parties.”
Her frown was immense. “You do?”
Smoothing out the little point b
etween her brows with his fingertip, he said, “Yes, I do, and she has planned quite an extravagant Fourth of July party. The entire town will be in attendance, probably half the state and beyond. There’s going to be a pilot there, too.”
She laughed, now following his line of teasing. “A flyboy, you mean.”
“Yes, a flyboy, and I probably could convince him to give that gorgeous woman a night flight.”
“What’s a night flight?”
“Flying at night, of course.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Not if the pi—flyboy knows what he’s doing.”
Her eyes were twinkling and Twyla, showing enthusiasm in a way only she could, scooted closer to him. “And why would that gorgeous woman want to go flying at night?”
“Well, you see,” he said, flicking the end of her nose, “that flyboy is thinking as long as there is already a party going on, he might invite a reverend to say a few words before the barbecue starts. And then, after a few dances, that flyboy would take his new bride, that gorgeous woman, on a night flight, so that when the fireworks started they’d be high in the sky, looking down at all those fiery sparks filling the air.”
Her frown was not what he expected. “What about your airmail route?”
“What about it?”
“Won’t you be flying across the nation all the time?”
“No,” he said. “If I get the contract, I’ll be flying from Minneapolis to Iowa five days a week. I’d be home every night.”
“You would?”
“Could you deal with that?” he asked. “Me being home every night?”
Smiling, she nodded. “Yes, I could, but...”
“But?”
“This is where it gets complicated again,” she said woefully. “I need to be busy, too. I don’t want to sound—”
“You’re going to busy all right,” he said, rubbing his nose against hers. “You’ll be running the Plantation.”
“Your mother—”
“Doesn’t want any more to do with it now than she did years ago.” Regret swelled inside him. “I have no idea why I said what I did. Jealousy, I guess. Thinking you wanted to be rich more than you wanted to be with me.”
The Rebel Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 2) Page 23
